fourteen half-finished arrangements lined up along the workbench.
Dad’s name had appeared on my phone.
I answered with my elbow because both hands were wet.
Then he said the one thing I had spent thirty-two years pretending he would never say.
For several seconds, I didn’t respond.
Outside, an October wind moved through the ornamental grasses along the fence. The shop door rattled once in its frame.
Finally I asked, “Why?”
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He inhaled.
“Your sister says it would be hard for
