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