MICHAEL
The drive back home is quiet, but it isn’t empty.
King is sitting on my lap in the back seat, his warm, small body pressing against my chest. His scent is one of soap and sleep. His arm is shoved into my jacket as if it belongs there.
...
MICHAEL
The drive back home is quiet, but it isn’t empty.
King is sitting on my lap in the back seat, his warm, small body pressing against my chest. His scent is one of soap and sleep. His arm is shoved into my jacket as if it belongs there.
...