Jack was a tired old man. He dreamed simple.

Just of a quiet nest. Loving wife, gracious daughter, honorable son.

He was a lucky man, too. Marguerite was a born domestic mama. Zoe was a good girl and a wild deer at once - gentle, sweet, and strong. And what folks said about Lucas didn't matter - boy testified when Oliver died, like he should. "Ditched him playin' in the bayou. I didn't go back for him."

Just as he'd told Jack as the gator thrashed a weeks-dead body, cracking bones.

...Jack had everything a man could want.

He knew he did.


July 5th. "Fantasy".