Joey sat on his bedroom floor. He had parts of a model plane spread out before him. A P-61 Black Widow. A very specific choice. He knew grandfather favored that period.
He also knew the model type didn’t really matter. What mattered was how he put it together. Carefully, correctly. No mistakes this time. He knew grandfather didn’t tolerate mistakes.
Suddenly, a shadowy figure in his doorway.
Joey reached for the wing and a bottle of glue. Start with something big, something easy.
Joey smiled. He was calm, his hands steady. He was going to get through this just fine.
The Weekday One Hundred 