Lost & Found, Page 3

the next had proved his undoing. Toggling between the various choices open to him had affected those selfsame choices. Changed outcomes. If he hadn’t seen his daughters in actuality, he might never have fallen in love with them. And, much as he enjoyed painting, he couldn’t abandon them now.

  There was one consolation. At least – when he did get home – he wouldn’t have a hangover.

  Not in the one iteration that really mattered.