RUBBY

I sat close to my Dad on his hospital bed, staring closely at him as if my eyes could bring back his memory.

Though he was awake, he wasn't with me. He kept staring past me, as though nothing had ever connected us before.

How had I been so careless not to have noticed?

I swallowed a lump that had formed in my throat and reached for his hand again.

"It's me, dad. Rubby, your daughter, your only daughter," I whispered with a trembling voice.

"How can you not remember me?"

In ...