Hunched over, his sweaty hands on his knees, he pants heavily. The run to the door had taken much out of him. He hears the clicking of the door knob, the sound of a squeaking door hinge, so his eyes dart up. And there stands the man he came to see, father, the raven hair barely brushed back, the eyebrows furrowed in confusion, the lines round his mouth revealing past joys, but the thing the son co...