whispers of shade

ather's grave, take a few photographs of the town he'd once sworn never to return to, and-if he cou

he'd se

ograph he hadn't been able to stop carrying since his return. It was curled at the corners, sun-bleached and cr

the summer b

hought the wor

he most important things weren't out

-

her why he was

now about th

x months staring down mortality wi

emory of the specialist's office. The way the words had

He still had time. Ma

im had shifted the

called a cage, suddenly felt like th

-

at curious blend of resolve and softness. But she carried something heavier now. Grief, ma

itated before reaching for things, as i

en she smiled

lway

-

barber shop, the post office, the little park with the rusted swings.

n't at th

one with the chipping paint and overgrown hedges

man-a quiet presence, always humming old jazz tunes, alw

e saw it in Clara's face when she spoke

w that

re it

-

ll that overlooked Willow Pond. The willow tree still stood

, like he had so

d out hi

ugh the clouds just right-so he could cap

lucky, where somethi

-

t darkroom he'd set up in the laundry room. As the images emerged-Clara's bookstore, a clos

ay of holding onto things. Framin

e wasn't sure it

hat he *really* wanted-c

to be

know if he was

-

ter, he ran

had gone looking for fresh apples and a distraction. He was thum

ian

same green eyes but a sharper edge. Her expression was

ring a small smile. "I

hen softened her tone just enough to

. "Just v

it in the way her mouth twisted. "You should k

entioned your

if you're here to stir things up, maybe think

inging more than he'd admit. "I'm

s surprise, she sighed and reached into her bag,

g them into his hands. "If you really want

e walke

e, the strawberries cradled in hi

f it was permiss

be

-