George Miller woke up with the first light of dawn, a habit he’d kept for over fifty years. Today was circled on the calendar—his eightieth birthday. He approached his morning routine with a quiet, disciplined focus: he pressed his white button-down shirt until the collar was crisp, stepped into his grey slacks with their sharp pleats, and carefully combed back his silver hair.
He lingered at the mirror for a moment before moving to the window to watch the street. His heart beat with a restless, uneven rhythm, like a man expecting a life-changing phone call but fearing the line would stay dead. In the kitchen, he heard the muffled clink of china—his wife, Eleanor, was already setting the table for the celebration.
A crisp white tablecloth covered the dining table, and the breakfast spread gave the room a sense of ceremony. Eleanor moved with practiced efficiency, but her eyes kept drifting toward her husband. She knew the weight of his silence.
“George, stop pacing,” she said gently, arranging a plate of sliced ham and cheese. “Everything will work out. They’ll be here, don’t you worry.” George turned toward her, but the anxiety in his eyes hadn’t faded.
“What if they don’t show?” he asked, his voice barely above a whisper, as if saying it out loud would make it true.
“Don’t be ridiculous,” Eleanor sighed, trying to maintain a steady front. “Who misses their father’s 80th birthday? It’ll be fine.”
She didn’t entirely believe it herself, but she wasn’t about to let him see her doubt. George hadn’t spoken to their son, Mike, in months. A cold wall had risen between them, and communication had withered to nothing. Today, George held onto the hope that Mike, his wife Sarah, and their five-year-old grandson Danny would finally walk through the door.
Three days ago, George had sent Mike a text with the time and place, adding that they’d love to see the whole family. The screen had remained dark—no reply. Now, standing by the window, George replayed the last few years in his head, searching for the exact moment he’d lost his son’s respect.
He had spent forty years as a lead engineer at the local manufacturing plant, a man known for solving problems that stumped everyone else. He was respected, a “company man” in the best sense of the word. Life had been solid:
Comments are closed.