He had believed effort would be enough.
But the empty chairs around them told a different story.
The Moment That Spread
I had parked my food truck not far from the pavilion that afternoon, selling sandwiches and cold drinks to weekend visitors. I had noticed Andrew from the beginning—how carefully he tied each balloon, how often he stepped back to make sure everything looked right, how Lila spun in circles nearby, her pink jacket glowing in the sunlight.
On the back of that jacket, stitched in silver thread, were the words: “Dad’s Little Rider.”
By two o’clock, she was no longer spinning.
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