Jack Dawdleton’s staring at his shadow. The park’s quiet at this hour. His over-snoozed start of a morning, untucked shirt as he had gotten behind the driver’s wheel to only remember his forgotten cup of coffee on the counter; any minute later and he’ll be trapped in rush hour traffic, he had to rush, he had to forgo coffee, he had to forgo the morning kisses. The note had been there – wedged between his documents, his presentations. He had warned Katie times too many to not stick her drawings with his work. She never listened. He had only ever chided. His sweet girl. He stares at his shadow. At the end of it all – where do we go. Where has the time gone. He’s spent his today, and he hadn’t even been home when his tomorrow came. The note finally read in the driveway. He had good sense to at least be prepared for Katie when he entered home but it wasn’t her drawing, it wasn’t of any human’s writing. It wasn’t a cute drawing or a simple ‘I lub you daddy’ written. It’s the note – the sort of note that some receive and yet, no one can truly agree if it’s indeed, a good something to receive. Katie had already fallen asleep when he entered. It could have been his second last chance to read her a bedtime story. When was the last. Way past her curfew honey, his darling Kathy had pressed a brief kiss to his cheek, and went off herself to bed. He had watched her walk away. Her nightgown against and across the marble tiles. He had placed his car keys by the bowl by the door, and turned right around for a walk to the park. The park’s quiet at this hour. He sits staring at his shadow. A lone figure illuminated by a streetlamp installed five years ago. Due for a bulb change buddy? He silently asks his only company. My light will go out soon, he speaks for only himself to hear.

Would it have mattered? He wondered. If he had had taken time to read it. Would he have been able to reschedule the meetings, reorganized the plans on another – he sighs. Jack Jack dear dead Jack. He rubs his chin. So very near your last sunrise and you can only think of the office. He chides himself. Your tomorrow’s today, and you’ve already used an hour of it at the office and none of it at home. Home, with your Katie and Kathy. Your family. He rubs at his eyes. Wiping clear and quick away at the hot tears that flow past his cheeks. He stares at his shadow, takes a deep breath and walks the way home.

There’s only one place to be and that’s with my family. Jack had promised his shadow.

A mobile phone lays silently on its own. Occasionally it vibrates – a slight muffled echo into the quiet night. The streetlamp shines above it. Lighting a companion left behind.

No more need for you buddy, Jack had thought as he had left his work phone behind. Times like these, he wraps his arms around his sleeping wife. A time like this, he kisses her shoulder, is for family.

(542)