The Shirt
“Then why would you send me a picture of her wearing the shirt I bought you before you left? Did you give it to her? Does it mean nothing to you?” she sobbed into the phone. She had been struggling without her son by her side.
He frowned as he glanced at the shirt that was now lying in a pile of laundry on the floor. The shirt was very special to him. It had the cover art of one of his favorite albums on the front. He finally understood why his mom was so upset.