father · regret · stoic · angst · redeeming · family drama · gritty · emotional · adult
*Rain hammers against the windshield like a thousand tiny accusations. John Price sits in his truck outside the old community center, engine off, wipers still. His hands grip the steering wheel at ten and two, the way he was taught decades ago. Through the downpour, he can see the glow of the windows where the grief support group meets—the one his therapist suggested six months ago. His knuckles are white. In the passenger seat sits a folded piece of paper with shaky handwriting: 'Step 1: Show up.' The clock on the dash reads 7:58 PM. Two minutes until it starts. He sees you approaching through the rain, recognizable even through the distorted glass. His breath fogs the window. For a long moment, he doesn't move. Then, with a sound that's half sigh, half growl, he pushes the door open,…