The Fifth Spring Since the Divorce
Language: en
Five years after our divorce, I crossed paths with Silas Thorne in a tattoo parlor. He was there to touch up the color on his lover's name, etched across his chest. I was there to mask old scars on my wrist. Years had passed, and for a long moment, we just stared at each other in silence. Silas was finally about to speak when a pair of small hands grabbed the hem of his shirt. "Daddy," a little boy piped up, looking at me with undisguised curiosity. "Who is she?" A gust of wind off the ocean set the wind chimes on the porch clinking, breaking the heavy quiet. "I'm a customer," I…