I drove them back myself. The boy woke up as we crossed the bridge, blinked at the city lights, and asked if we’d gotten the ice cream. Leo started crying then. Quietly. The way men do when they realize the only thing they’ve truly gambled away is the part of themselves that mattered.
It was three in the morning when the call came through. vice stories
“I’m sorry,” he said. To me. To the boy. To the ghost of the man he used to be. I drove them back myself