whispers of shade
young and dreaming. The house had always been a little lopsided, but her father had insisted it had character, like all the best things in life. The porch swing groaned with a
s, or maybe a memory of them from thirty years ago. Clara wasn't sure anymore where his thoughts landed. Some days he w
he sound of a c
one hand and a basket in the other. He looked like he'd stepped out of a dream-or a photograph long hidde
fferings," he said, lif
sed over her chest. "You always di
," he replied with a smal
taking in the familiar surroundings. The air inside was thick with the scent of lemon polish and chamomile,
nd opened the bag to reveal a still-warm blu
," Clara said q
ot," he repli
led from the living room, "Clara, did you let the ca
nced at he
haven't had a cat in six years," she said softly. "But he
tea. They sat at the table in a silence that wa
ter a few long moments, stirring
hinks I'm his sister, or some nurse from the VA hospital. Last week he tried to take the
must
nished for him
ubbed the back of hi
is alone. And she's not wrong. But... this house, Julian. He built it. Every cabinet hinge, every floorbo
pine cabinets, the same cracked tile by the sink. A photograph of C
rew up
e a whisper. "This house has more of me
why you
rrected. Her tone was sharp now, br
tly. "I didn't know i
t. You left. That wa
it again. Finally, he said, "I th
ought disappearing without a word wa
now how to stay and not become l
ason to stay?" she asked, he
n the air, thick wi
pulled out a small, folded photo. He s
smiled up at her, dandelions tangled in her h
is?" she ask
to I never printed
anger in her faded, replaced by s
u really he
swer. None of them felt quite right. He swallo
out first. But then something happened. And I realized the only thing I
he photo. She traced the corners with her finger
if it is?"
e barely above a whisper. "
years of silence and shared memories. The ticking cl
surprising clarity: "Clara, your mother always said dandelio
losed h
ad ma
ed to believe it mi
-