The Uncertain After – Part 1
He was sitting in a stiff chair, his small body dwarfed by the dining room table. He could not be older than seven, she thought.
“Were you afraid?” she asked.
He looked up at her, his dark eyes sober. “No.” He rose slightly from his chair, stretching his thin arm toward the box of brightly coloured cards in the middle of the table.
“He never cried,” the father said from across the table. He pushed the cards within the reach of his son. “His sister cried, but he never cried.”
“His sister is here also?”
“She was here but she…” he hesitated, “it…it…it was complicated. She went back to meet her mother.”
“How old is she?”
She looked down the table at him. He was lacing and unlacing his fingers as he stared at the boy. He sighed heavily and continued his story.