He swallowed but didn’t smile.
« Hi, Mom. »
A sob caught in my throat.
Six years.
I had imagined this moment every single day. I had dreamed about seeing him at the grocery store, at church, even walking down the sidewalk. Sometimes I imagined him older. Sometimes I imagined him looking exactly as he had the night he disappeared.
But never like this.
I rushed toward him with my arms open.
« My baby… »
« Stop, » he said.
His voice wasn’t angry.