I saw a homeless man wearing my son’s jacket, the one that had gone missing – and I decided to follow him.

same brand.

Not the same color.

It was Ethan’s exact jacket — the one he had taken with him the morning he disappeared.

I knew it because of the guitar-shaped patch on the torn sleeve.

I had sewn that patch on myself because Ethan loved music.

And when the man turned toward the counter to order tea, I saw the faint paint stain across the back — the one continue reading …