prison.
About my father.
About the years we lost.
About the fact that he had been fighting a private war while I fought mine behind bars, both of us separated by the same people.
THE LAST PROMISE
I visited the quiet plot beneath the old oak tree with Harold.
There was no headstone.
Just grass, wind, and a sense of stillness that felt like a hand placed gently on your shoulder.
Harold stood a few feet away, giving me space.
I knelt and placed my palm on the earth.
“I’m
