Joe stood over his son’s bed. Only the nightlight next to the small bookshelf illuminated the room.

“I’m sorry it has to be this way, buddy,” Joe whispered. “I hope that you grow up to be the man I was never able to be.” Joe’s voice caught, and tears fell unheeded into his coarse mustache and beard.

The nightlight flickered.

“I love you so, so much,” Joe finally continued. “Perhaps someday, you can believe that and maybe forgive me.” He reached out a hand, but stopped well short of the sleeping boy. “Goodbye, buddy.”

Silently, Joe turned and walked away, pulling the door closed behind him.

The nightlight flared, then went out.

“Daddy? It’s dark in here. I’m scared, Daddy.” A pause. “DADDY?”