On a heavy Chicago afternoon in June, with the world locked away by COVID quarantines, Gunnar Branson stood alone outside a garage. He watched his wife, college-aged daughter, and two cats drive away. A thirty-year marriage ended as he stood in the alley. Dark thunderheads loomed overhead, alternating with bursts of hot sun. A light breeze fluttered the linden tree. Story over.
But maybe not.
There are answers to be found in the past. This is the story of a boy growing up in Alaska and an older man waking up to the best part of his life. The story is not over. The world does not have to end. Not yet, anyway.
