For a second, Leo didn’t move at all. His chest rose and fell quickly beneath his wet jacket. The man turned back toward his workbench, unaware that a child was staring at him as though the whole city had narrowed down to that one muddy patch of concrete. Sean stayed perfectly still. He had the strange feeling that if he said a single word, the entire moment might shatter. Leo took one small step forward, then another, his shoes splashing softly through shallow water. The man glanced up again, annoyed at first, probably expecting a coworker or delivery driver.
Instead, he saw a little boy standing in the rain, gripping a photograph so tightly the paper had bent in the middle. Confusion crossed the man’s face before recognition did. Sean watched it happen in stages. First surprise. Then disbelief. Then a kind of dread, as if the man already knew what seeing that child there might mean. Leo’s lips parted, but no sound came out. He swallowed hard. Sean could hear the river slapping against the dock and the hiss of rain on hot metal somewhere nearby. The whole yard seemed to go quiet around the two of them, though Sean knew the machines were still running.