After My Father’s

three department heads stories about my father that somehow all involved fistfights, bad coffee, and moral clarity.

My phone buzzed.

Miles.

I let it ring.

Then again.

Then again.

Finally, a text.

You’re making this worse.

I typed back.

For you, I hope so.

Three dots appeared.

Disappeared.

Appeared again.

Then:

You have no idea what he hid from you.

I stared at the continue reading …