MELROSE

A glass of whiskey perfectly fits in his right hand while his left is holding a cigar. He's still wearing his night robe with white and light blue stripes and a pair of comfy black slippers. He looks out of the windows slowly sipping his drink. Too early for me to see someone's drinking, but it's quite too late for his daily routine.

"Are you still writing dear?" He asked after taking a sip and a deep exhale of his cigars.

"Hm-hm." I hummed.

"What is it about?"

"Mostly about you." I huffed. This one taste so bad, I think.

"About me? What would you expect from a man like me?"

"Oh, everything actually." I killed the fire before it burns completely and ruins my fingers.

"I'm desperate." He said and sit next to me.

I close my book and look directly at him. "You're not desperate, dear father. You have a lack of company and that's why I'm here."

"I'm always here for you." 

-

His tie is undone and his face looks tired. He always looks like this when he needs attention. When everything was perfect in this house, he would come to me and snuggle into me, and said,

"Where's my little sweetheart?"

And I would always answer

"But I'm not little anymore dad." With half of my voice is full of giggles and laughs as he tickled me.

Dad would always laugh and said that I will always be little for him. That I will be his little baby who keeps him awake all night and complaining how darkness makes her hard to breathe.

I certainly forgot that it was years ago. Back when everything was perfect and the house's still warm. Alcohol and cigarettes that burn his clothes into tiny little holes are the only things that keep this room warm lately. Poor his big heart, loneliness keep eating it and left a bigger hole and it started to eat the whole room.

I watch him pouring another shot of bourbon. He really is enjoying the drink. I don't know if I should be happy for him or snatch it away so he could stop drinking.