I quickly crouched down and began grabbing the ice with my bare hands, as if cleaning up the mess could somehow calm the strange, heavy feeling that had suddenly settled in my chest. The cubes burned against my fingers with their sharp cold.
But the truth was, I hadn’t dropped the bag because I was clumsy.
I dropped it because of the man standing in the living room.
He was standing there comfortably, as if he had every right to be in that house.
But he didn’t.
He was tall, well dressed, and carried himself with confidence. He smiled easily while talking to the people around him — the same easy smile I suddenly realized my daughter seemed to have inherited. He stood beside my sister, holding a drink and chatting casually like someone who had been part of our family gatherings for years.Family
