Boston welcomed us beneath a low, November sky, the city shrouded in cold rain and fading afternoon light.
Water traced crooked paths down the sedan’s windows as we made our way into the heart of the city, blurring the lights along the Charles River into shimmering ribbons of gold. Outside, pedestrians hurried beneath dark umbrellas, couples leaned into each other against the cold, and students rushed past with coffee cups in hand and backpacks slung over their shoulders. Everything moved with the familiar rhythm of a city going about its evening, yet from the warmth of the car, it all felt strangely distant, as though we were watching another world through a pane of glass.Somewhere among them was Evelyn.
Somewhere, my children were growing up without knowing I existed.
