(no subject)
Good grief.
The things one missed when one was dead.
Apparently his son had gotten out of prison not once, but twice.
It hurt to think of the baby boy he held in his arms so long ago as a murderer, a thief, a criminal. When he had looked down into the those innocent blue eyes, a proud new father he had wondered what Garthe would become. Would he be happy? Would he be healthy? Would he follow in his father's footsteps? Would he choose another career path?
Instead, he had become the sort of person Wilton's Foundation fought against on a daily basis.
He wondered if he should pay his wayward son a visit.
The things one missed when one was dead.
Apparently his son had gotten out of prison not once, but twice.
It hurt to think of the baby boy he held in his arms so long ago as a murderer, a thief, a criminal. When he had looked down into the those innocent blue eyes, a proud new father he had wondered what Garthe would become. Would he be happy? Would he be healthy? Would he follow in his father's footsteps? Would he choose another career path?
Instead, he had become the sort of person Wilton's Foundation fought against on a daily basis.
He wondered if he should pay his wayward son a visit.