Clara
I remembered it immediately, not as a new memory… but as an old one.
Much older.
Years ago, my father had given it to me when I graduated from university… It was the pen he used to sign his first important contract.
I remember his smile, his pride.
The way he said:
"One day you'll sign much bigger things with it."
My fingers closed around the pen, and then I remembered something else.
My father had died… He was gone.
I felt a lump in my throat, a sudden, violent pain. Because I woke up in a hospital, because I discovered I had remarried, because I lost a couple of whole years of my life. And in the middle of all that… I hadn't had time to grieve.
Or even to understand.
My eyes began to burn.
"Dad…" I whispered.
The tear fell before I could stop it, then another… and ano
