|Apr/May 2011 Fiction|
Photo by David Graham
She had only just stepped inside the doorway, and already the contorted expression that had darkened his face had begun to soften. He moved away from the staircase that led up to the rooms where the children slept, and which he seemed to be instinctively blocking.
Honey, she said. You don't know how glad I am you're coming around.
She'd almost said, I knew you'd come around. But at the last second, she'd thought better of it.