After My Father’s

The production floor below was quiet, machines resting until morning.

I opened the top drawer and took out Dad’s letter.

I had read it so many times the creases had softened.

Carrie-girl,

If you’re reading this, then I am gone, and someone has tried to make you feel alone.

You are not.

I touched the page.

“You were right,” I whispered.

Then I added, “And continue reading …