The phone slipped off my trembling fingers. It luckily bounced on the sofa before falling face down on the carpeted floor. Was the picture real? I asked myself while my eyes remained glued on my phone which I made no move to pick up. The boy could be just anyone's child. To put it simply he just looked a lot like my dead son.
But then what are the odds that a stranger who probably never saw my son's face before would send me the picture of a boy who looked exactly like him?
I swallowed deep and hard. Torn between a dilemma, I just looked at my phone, not wanting to pick it up , fearing another peek would confirm my biggest fears that it could be my child.
B-but Dylan is dead…. He couldn't be that boy… A voice inside me reasoned, and it shattered my illusion that my son was still alive.