I recalled Hannah’s brilliant grin beneath the lights.
“You clean up well,” she taunted, fixing my tie.
I remembered how she giggled throughout slow songs and never let go of my hand. She didn’t know what occurred before I arrived. She needn’t. She just saw the guy who arrived.
People consider vengeance loud. They picture yelling, doors smashed, plates shattered. But sometimes it’s silent.
One video file. Lawn mower whirr. A suit moved between hangers.
Before someone says “I’m sorry.”
I believe dad and I will be alright.
