By Stephen Lang
He drags a chair closer to the radiator. The screech is unbearable, like nails across a blackboard.
“I just need to take the weight off my feet.”
I meet his imploring, hollow eyes. He draws his knees to his chin, shaking. He’s looking thinner these days.
Mum made it abundantly clear.
“Don’t ever come back, Charlie Connor!”
But in the years since I lost Mum, he sneaks in through the cracks.
And he does carry so much weight.
“Charles. Can you please go?”
I can’t bring myself to call him Dad. And Charlie sounds too informal for a man long dead.
So haunting – beautiful!
Oh wow! The end gave me goosebumps. Hauting and a nice little twist.
Nice! I really didn’t see that ending coming…
Haunting, unexpected, gorgeous. A real piece of art. I liked it so much I read it twice.
Sublime and powerful.