I hate when you wake and lose the story-dream you knew so well it was like the pages of a well-thumbed book, but upon waking, becomes like the joke with a punchline you can’t recall.
I will put down what I remember, but it isn’t enough.
The guy looks like Paul Blackthorne as Harry Dresden.
He doesn’t know how to tell these children (a boy and a girl) about their mother, who she was, what she meant. He doesn’t know if they want to be with him, or to be with just themselves.
He takes a container of cookies out. Offers them one,…only…he spots something in the bottom, a mere fragment of a cookie. His face cracks a smile.
He tells them he’s been telling them about this all day, but now here one is, and it’s his. The cookie of his people. He pops it into his mouth and we see snatches of memories layered-atop-memories flash. The cookie fragment looks like a Snickerdoodle, but what really matters is that he remembers family. Here, he has family. These kids are not alone after all.