Bald head

On the way to work this morning, there was a guy behind me in a convertible with the same baldness pattern as my dad had, and, though I held my dad's hand the entire day that he died, and I saw him dead, somewhere in the back of my mind, in the base of my being, there was this crazy hope against hope that it was him, and I could not not turn and look as the car went past me.

It was not him.