The world did not shake or blur, yet something inside Aaron shifted with a quiet force that left his lungs momentarily empty. That tattoo had been designed by his identical twin brother, a design shared only between them during a reckless youth full of promises they had never expected to break.
Aaron crouched to meet the child’s gaze and forced his voice to stay gentle.
“What is your name, young man?”
“My name is Tyler,” the boy replied proudly. “I live in the big house with Ms. Donnelly.”
Aaron’s eyes flicked toward the building at the end of the block, a converted residence that served as a county shelter for children under protective care. His pulse quickened, though his expression remained composed.
“Do you remember your father, Tyler?” Aaron asked softly.
The boy nodded, though his smile faded into something thoughtful.
“He was tall like you and he laughed loud like thunder,” Tyler said slowly. “But then he started forgetting things and he would stare at walls for a long time, and Mommy cried a lot, and one day they did not come back for me.”
The words landed like stones.
Aaron swallowed carefully.
“What is your father’s name?” he asked.
The boy answered without hesitation.