Standing with his hands in his pockets, he teased a section of the driveway with his toes, clearing the space. Two hand prints marked the driveway. His neat and clear, Chris’ scrunched, almost indiscernible as a hand. Their names and the date had been inscribed beneath, but it wasn’t their mother’s writing. “Christopher and Kyle June 5th, 1983.”
Kyle barely remembered that day. Their dad, so proud of the new house, had driven them over when the concrete was poured. The men let him make the prints and scratch the names in the concrete, laughing as the baby protested.
He snapped a photo of it with his cellphone. “We were happy then, weren’t we? Or did I just think that…
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