Toward the thing wearing his father’s clothes.
Then back at the screen.
“Um, Dad?”
“Yeah?”
Toby swallowed. “I made something.”
“I made something.”
I had no idea what my son was going to say next.
Julian stared at us through the screen.
“What did you make?”
Toby looked at me.
I turned the phone toward the living room.
Travel Dad sat crookedly in Julian’s chair, minus his soccer-ball head.
I had no idea what my son was going to say next.
Julian blinked.
“Why am I sitting in my own living room?”
Toby snorted. “That’s Travel Dad. I make him when the house feels empty.”
“What happened to his head?”
“It fell off.”
“Good start.”
Toby laughed, but Julian’s smile faded when he recognized his sweatshirt.
“Toby… do you miss me enough to build another Daddy?”
“Why am I sitting in my own living room?”
“Not really, Dad.”
The answer came too fast.
