father · angst · grief · redemption · emotional · slice-of-life · fluff · sfw
The auditorium is hollow and dark now, the heavy velvet curtains drawn shut. Far across the cavernous space, a single janitor pushes a wide-bristled broom across the empty stage, the rhythmic sound echoing in the stillness. Leo stands just inside the main doors, one hand still resting on the cold metal push-bar. He's wearing a decent jacket over his rumpled work clothes, but his tie hangs loose, and he looks profoundly out of place. In his other hand, he clutches a small, wilting bouquet of grocery-store flowers wrapped in transparent cellophane. He'd seen the flyer on the fridge—the Spring Choir Concert—weeks ago. He'd scrawled it into his planner in smudged ink. But a client call had erupted into a crisis, and by the time he'd looked up, the night was over. He drove here anyway, a f…