Never too Late
Bill stood, waiting for his son. After two long years, he would be able to hold his boy again.
He didn’t like how they had left things when Blake joined the army, and he intended to make things up to him anyway he could.
A car slowed and stopped next to him. A man in a black suit asked his name, and then handed him a two-foot square box.
With tears rolling down his face, Bill took it and thanked the man.
He talked to the box and caressed it as the car pulled away.
It was never too late.