She joins him in the booth. Thank you for seeing me,” she says.
“Of course,” he says.
Superficial talk, awkward, while they make introductions and the waiter takes their order. She suppresses the desire to say, “Call me Mom.”
He says, “I don’t know how to thank you. And . . . your son.” The pain sucks all sound from the room. “I’m sorry,” he says.
She is looking at his chest. She raises her grieving hand. “May I?”
“Yes.”
She touches his chest. There, beneath the flesh and breastbone of this stranger: the beating of her dead son’s heart.
There is only one Teter, so I know this is you. Plus, your writing style is unmistakable. Love it, especially the line, "The pain sucks all sound from the room."
A fine, powerful story that does what every story is supposed to do– move the reader. I love it. mary lombard
Absolutely perfect. There really is only one Mr. Teter.