A Table That Made Room
Her name was Marissa Wren.
She explained that Colter had lived a quiet, peaceful life in a small town outside Boone. He worked with his hands, repaired engines, helped neighbors, raised his daughter with patience and care, and kept an old photograph in the top drawer of his nightstand.
He had never forgotten the men at the back table.
He had only believed that too much time had passed.
“He used to say some people are hard to face because you love them too much,” Marissa said.
Rowan nodded slowly.
“That sounds like him.”
The waitress brought over another chair without being asked.
Then another.
Marissa sat beside her daughter.
For the first time that day, the men at the back table no longer looked untouchable.
They looked human.
They asked about Colter’s laugh.
His work.
His favorite songs.
What he had been like as a father.
Lila answered some questions with the proud honesty of a child.
Marissa answered the rest.
And with each answer, the men seemed to regain a small piece of the friend they had thought was gone forever.
