The Message From My Son That Forced An Impossible Choice – The Archivist

restaurant’s signature scent of herbs and wood smoke, not the perfume I’d sprayed that morning, not even the city smells that usually overwhelmed me.

Just nothing. Flatness. Absence where my gift used to be.

I reached for my phone to call my car service and realized I’d left it on the table.

I turned back toward the restaurant, already dreading facing continue reading …