New York City
July 15th, 2002
John took a deep breath, glancing at the door number. He checked his phone again. 209.
He knocked on the door.
Although it was very late—or rather, very early—the door opened immediately.
William hugged John, tears prickling at both of their eyes. They remained there, standing in the doorway, in each other's embrace.
"Daddy?"
John glanced over William's shoulder. Lainie was sitting on the sofa, eyes wide. William pulled out of the hug and looked at his father.
"She was at Franklin Park the day after she ran away. I took a bus up and was going to take her back to you, but she convinced me to bring her back with me."
John smiled.
"I'm not mad. I'm glad she's with her father."
William stared and shook his head. "You knew?"
John nodded. "She looks just like your mother."
"Can you tell her, then? I've been terrified to."
"I want to speak with you. This run clearly took a lot of planning."
"Almost a year's worth," William admitted. He pulled John into the apartment and closed the door, taking extra care to lock the door behind them.
YOU ARE READING
forgetting me
Short StoryWilliam has been hurt too many times to count. But for as many times as he's been hurt, he's hurt someone else countless times more. Now, all he wants to do is f o r g e t. - - #1 in #missingperson (feb 23rd 2019) #8 in #report (august 14th 2019)
