He Said My Son’s Name Like It Was Still Normal to Say It
Ben.
No one had called him Ben in decades.
Not out loud.
Not without turning the room into a funeral.
The man approached with a formal smile, like he was proud to do it right.
“Mrs. Mitchell,” he corrected himself, extending his hand. “I’m Thomas. I help with the horses and the garden. Mr. James was my best friend.”
I took his hand because my body did what it had to do to stay upright.
“Nice to meet you, Thomas.”
His eyes sparkled with sincerity.
“Would you like to see Ben’s special place?”
