The man sat in his chair, very still, like someone had hit the pause button. He'd been there for hours, and the mid-afternoon sunlight now stretched across the lower half of his face. The rest of him remained in the shadows.
Caleb hesitated inside of the doorway for a full beat.
To say the very least, it had not been a good day. And Caleb usually wasn't a "say the very least" kind of kid.
He did not want to be here. But Caleb continued his approach to his father's office. He needed to tell him. He hadn't found her. Worse still, he couldn't look anymore.
Bernard saw the boy padding in with his head down, droopy. He shifted his weight in the chair and softly asked: "What is it Caleb?" He did not get up.
"I came to tell you," the boy began, "I just can't; I can't do it anymore."
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