On the bed in the spare bedroom of the Seaport condo the coat pile grows, humped up like a mutant octopus, tentacles smelling of perfume, and leather. When everyone at the party was in the kitchen and living room, the son sneaks in, rifles through the pockets, and takes a little change from each. His eyes perk thinking he feels paper money. But it is just a handwritten note in the furry pocket of a woman’s coat, signed by his father. He doesn’t really know the words, but recognizes love, I’ll tell her, and knows they’re private words. Words that mean goodbye, words he can’t undo, even if he puts them back.

Fear Not – If a separation is in the cards, we have rentals and sales available