"You divorced her? Just like that? What the hell were you thinking, Leonard?"
Leonard could still hear his father's voice in his head, even now, sharp, disappointed, firm.
The memory rang loud and raw as he stood there, under the gray canopy of sky. His father's voice wasn't raised often. But when it was, it struck like thunder. It had been one of the few times Winston Ford looked at his youngest son with a mixture of disbelief and quiet fury.
Leonard had just told him the truth then, he had signed the papers.
And now, here he was, dressed in black, standing in the same place, the memory clinging to him tighter than the raindrops now soaking into his coat.
His father's funeral.
Everything felt like it had happened yesterday.
