For a while, everything had gone according to plan.
Then his father became seriously ill.
Jason dropped out of college and came home to help his family.
One semester became two.
Then three.
He never went back.
Years later, he married.
Had a daughter.
Worked construction.
And then, six years earlier, he fell from a platform at work.
He survived.
But his hip and lower back were badly injured.
After several surgeries, he could walk—but heavy physical work was no longer possible.
Then came the medical bills.
The divorce.
The loss of his house.
His daughter moved to another state with her mother.
Jason took whatever work he could find.
Now he worked mornings cleaning the café and evenings stocking shelves at a grocery store.
“I’m fine,” he said.
I almost smiled.
Because I knew that sentence.
I had used it for years.
“I’m fine.”
Usually when I was anything but.
