his back.
“Captain, you have passengers waiting.”
The pilot laughed, his eyes shining with tears.
“Still telling people what to do, Walt.”
“Somebody has to.”
“Walter Hayes,” the captain said, shaking his head. “It’s been thirty years. Why did you stop answering my letters?”
Dad lowered his gaze.
“I’m sorry, Michael.”
The captain noticed the silver wings in Dad’s hand.
His expression immediately changed.
“You still carry them?”
“Every day.”
Michael touched the little wings gently.
“I was ten when I handed those to you. I remember being terrified I’d
