His face sported along scar that ran from brow to chin around the outside of his left eyeand seemed to bunch as it crossed the wrinkles on his forehea.... Hishair was jet black, cut short and greased until it seemed to be asingle black piece glued to his head. His eyes were blue and while theyweren't unkind neither were they as warm and friendly as Sam hadanticipated.He sat and drank deeply from his mug of coffee and very soon could feelhimself relaxing. He knew that Jon was talking to him but it. ”“Thanks, Dad,” Sam said, his voice rather weak. “I love you.”“Love you too. Talk to you soon.”With that, the screen went black as Sam’s dad signed off. As he closed his laptop, I continued sitting there, my mouth nearly hanging open. That entire conversation lasted barely three minutes.“Sam, what’s wrong with him?” I asked cautiously. “Is… Is he sick?”“Yeah. Just a little, though. He’ll… He’ll be all right.”The uncertainty in his words was impossible to mask. Sam’s face went from stoic to. More

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