There had to be room
for the rabbit.
Room for the bear.
Room for the tiny elephant missing one ear.
And somehow, there was always room for Dominic whenever he decided to join them.
He gripped the doorframe.
On the wall beside the closet hung a yellow butterfly made of construction paper.
Below it, in Sophie’s uneven handwriting, were three words.
Daddy and me.
Dominic sank to the floor.
His phone slipped from his hand.
For the first time since his daughter died, nobody was watching him.
No employees.
No security guards.
No relatives telling him to be strong.
He began crying so hard he could barely breathe.
But even then, one terrible part of his mind kept searching for a solution.
A flight.
A hotel.
A conversation.
A gift.
Something he could buy, arrange, or repair.
He reached for the phone and called Lauren.
It went to voicemail.
