September 8, 2016
San Francisco
The afternoon fog drifted slowly across the hills of Dolores Park.
Steve walked along the familiar path toward the bench.
He had walked it so many times now that his feet seemed to know the way without thinking.
The park was quieter than usual that day.
A few people sat scattered across the grass, wrapped in jackets against the cool air.
Steve sat down.
For a moment he didn't say anything.
He rested his hands on the bench and watched the skyline through the fog.
"Well," he said quietly.
"I got some news today."
A breeze moved softly through the trees.
"Your mom called."
Steve paused.
"Your dad passed away."
The words hung in the air.
Steve stared out across the park.
"I didn't really know what to say to her."
He rubbed his hands together slowly.
"We didn't talk very long."
His voice softened.
"I think she just wanted someone who remembered you."
The fog rolled slowly over the city.
After a moment Steve sighed.
"I know things were... complicated."
"That's probably the nicest way to say it."
He shook his head slightly.
"I wish things had been different."
Steve leaned back against the bench.
For a few minutes he simply sat there in silence.
The sounds of the park drifted around him — distant conversation, a dog barking somewhere down the hill.
Finally he stood up.
"I just thought you should know."
He glanced once more at the bench.
Then he turned and walked back down the path.