ADVERTISEMENT
“Yes,” he said. “I was.”
Then he reached into his pocket, pulled out a pocketknife I recognized instantly as his grandfather’s, and handed it to me.
“What’s this for?”
He nodded toward the rail.
“Thought you might want to carve your own initials again,” he said. “If you’re still here.”
I looked at him for a long moment.
Then I took the knife, crouched down,continue reading …
ADVERTISEMENT