Marcus stood before he gave himself time to reconsider.
The vinyl seat creaked behind him, loud enough that the nearest waitress glanced over. His coffee sat untouched, steam fading. For a second, he felt the weight of everything he didn’t have—money, influence, protection.
Then he felt the weight of something else.
His son’s hand in his that morning.
“For Mom.”
…
👇 👇 👇 👇 👇
