On the morning after his 12th birthday party, he came downstairs carrying that envelope.
“Today’s the day.”
I was making coffee. “The day for what?”
He didn’t respond.
I smiled. “I’m kidding.”
He hugged the envelope to his chest. “I counted it again last night.”
“How much?”
“Three hundred and seventy-six dollars.”
I finished my coffee, grabbed my purse, and we left.
The music store was in a busy shopping area about 20 minutes away.
We parked around the corner because the closest lot was full.
Ethan talked the whole way.
“What if they don’t have the black one anymore?”
“We can order it.”
“But I want to hold it first.”
“Then you’ll hold another one.”
“What if the neck feels different?”
“Ethan.”
“What?”
“We’ll see when we get there.”
We were laughing when we turned the corner.
That’s when we saw the man.
