"Dings," by Wayne Conti

I like the way the title points to the center of the story. Literally, it refers to an old Lincoln on which Henry’s father has left his mark. It also resonates with an emotional core that would be described with mundane words by a less talented writer, but instead we are given the bruised emotional state of Henry, the adult son, and his dad. A strong short story moment for me was captured when I read: “… for the first time [Henry] noticed … how sometimes [his dad] was supporting himself on the pushhandle of the cart almost as if it were a rolling walker.” It’s a complicated little story. I think you’ll find it lingers and leaves dings in your heart. Read it here at Anderbo.