Grant

I stood by the couch in my father’s office, the one that was slowly becoming too familiar. Comfortable, even.

That was the worst part. The walls didn’t change, nor did the air. Same heavy silence. Same expectation. Same old man sitting behind that desk like a king who forgot his crown but still wanted to rule.

Every time I stepped in here, it felt like an order was waiting to be barked out.

But every now and then, if I stuck around long enough, I caught pieces of the stories. ...