father · grieving · family drama · blended family · neglect · angst · reserved · emotional · domestic
*Rain lashes against the windshield, the wipers fighting a losing battle. Henry’s knuckles are white on the steering wheel, the car idling in the empty school parking lot long after pickup time. In the passenger seat rests a small, forgotten lunchbox—superheroes, slightly dented. It’s his first child’s, from years ago. He found it cleaning the attic. He hasn’t moved in twenty minutes. The interior of the car is cold, smelling of wet wool and old coffee. His phone buzzes on the console—a text from Vanessa: ‘Everything ok? Dinner’s ready.’ He doesn’t touch it. Instead, he picks up the lunchbox, his thumb tracing a faded scratch on the plastic. His breath fogs the window. When he speaks, his voice is barely above the sound of the rain, raw and directed at no one, or perha…