The two men sat in silence.
Outside, an early evening storm seemed to be brewing. Inside, the father thought about what his son had said. He thought about the consequences that may well follow, if any.
A distant, gentle roll of thunder penetrated the silence of the room.
The son also sat thinking. He couldn’t think of anything meaningful that he could add. He turned to look at the darkening window.
A light rain was now splashing against the glass.
The father slowly put down the newspaper he’d been reading.
Thunder sounded again, this time with a boom.
The son watched, as his father removed his glasses, noting not for the first time how carefully he placed them down. In his eyes, his father had always been a wise and prudent man. He considered the differences between them. There seemed to be a wide gap, something that went beyond the obvious differences in their age.
The rain began pelting against the window now and the occasional flash of lightening lit the back garden.
The father went to the window and looked out for a while. It was obvious that a summing up of what he’d been told was running through his head.
Thunder clapped loudly somewhere overhead and the relentless rain still pounded the side of the house.
After peering up at the sky, the father closed the curtains. He gave a barely audible groan as he sat back down.
Another clap of thunder.
The son leant forward slightly, as if there was something he wanted to add, but instead, he lowered his head with a sigh.
As time passed, the rain began to ease and the sound of the storm fell away.
The father picked up his glasses and his newspaper. He sat regarding his son for a few long seconds before returning to his reading.
The rain had stopped and only distant rumblings could be heard.
The son sunk further back into his chair. He watched his father for a while. It was as though they had come to some tacit agreement that there was nothing more to say.
Soft rumblings told him that the storm had nearly passed.