Thank you Katie for setting up these next challenges! This week we’re focusing on the impressions we get when seeing or hearing particular names. (Link to the assignment.)
Beyond the old, warped window, Wilmer Kaine eyed the moving truck parked in their driveway. On the grass, his daughter and granddaughter chased their floppy-eared spaniel in the warm light of the late afternoon sun. Amelia and Catherine were the only legacy he would be sharing with the rest of the world once he was gone, at least that anyone would know. Whether that day was another ten years off or an hour later, he made sure every moment he could spare was put toward cherishing their every movement and ensuring their future was one worth living.
He’d always worked for a better future, but not always for his kids. For a time he worked for himself. Before that it was for Abacus. Before that it was for the Marine Corps and the State Department. In the beginning, he simply worked for a mechanic named Davis, making the world better one oil change at a time.
A quiet laugh briefly misted the glass. If Davis was alive, he would have stopped recognizing Wilmer years ago. Time and strong men had beaten the delusions of grandeur out of his mind. His vulgar speech was replaced with wit and charm and fluent Cantonese; his overalls became tailored suits; and his sidearm felt as natural in his hands as a wrench once had.
The black file cabinets, each securely locked, held his story. Only his late Martha had an inkling of what was in those stolen files, and he never did blame her for not wanting to know the rest. God knew he would erase the past if he could.
Taking one last look to make sure his loved ones were engrossed in their fun, he crossed the polished bamboo floor and took the lock of the nearest cabinet in his left hand.
He may not have been able to erase his past, but with the burn-barrel in the back yard, at least some of it could go up in smoke.