She didn’t take the glass. She spun around and practically fled toward her chair, keeping her eyes glued to the floor as the townspeople actively stepped out of her way.
I went to take my seat in the back row, but a hand gently caught my arm.
It was my father. His eyes were shining with a mixture of profound regret and immense, overwhelming pride. He didn’t say a word. He didn’t need to. He just guided me away from the back of the hall and walked me down the center aisle, pulling out the empty chair right in the front row.
