“Dad,” he said at last, his voice hesitant but steady, “can I ask you something before I go?”
Michael barely looked up from his phone. “Of course. What is it?”
“When we drove past that old community building near the river yesterday, there were kids standing outside,” Noah said. “Some of them looked about my age. Why do they not have anywhere to live?”
The question lingered in the air longer than Michael expected. He knew the building. He had driven past it for years, always aware of it in the abstract, never close enough to feel responsible.
“It is complicated,” he replied after a moment, choosing the safest answer he knew. “We can talk about it another time.”
Noah nodded, though the look in his eyes suggested disappointment more than understanding. Michael did not notice. His phone vibrated again. Another meeting reminder. Another reason to hurry. He kissed Noah’s hair, grabbed his coat, and left.