He reached out and covered her hand with his. — “Are you going to kick me out?” Allison looked at her son, who was beaming, then back at David. She realized that sometimes, the “scenic route” leads you exactly where you were supposed to be all along.
She smiled—a real, radiant smile.
— “Well, you can’t leave yet. My mom is making tea, and you haven’t even seen the bridge for the train track,” she whispered, squeezing his hand back. — “Stay.”
Outside, the November rain continued to fall, but inside the small house, it finally felt like the first day of spring.
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