Owen would smile, tired. “We build things too, Dad. We build second chances.”
So he became a public defender. Sal didn’t understand. “You defend thieves,” he’d grumble, scraping gravel from his boots on Owen’s welcome mat. “Brandanos build things. We don’t clean up after the people who tear them down.” owen brandano
Sal Brandano walked up, hands in his pockets. He looked at Miguel, then at the wet pavement, then at Owen. Owen would smile, tired
The silence that followed was thick as tar. Owen would smile