"Between friends, unspoken feelings can feel like a fragile thread pulled taut; one denies its existence while the other hides behind its delicate weave, both yearning for the courage to unravel what lies beneath."
Ian and Julian, long-time best fri...
"Poor little girl; still waiting for her happy ending."
~Julian ♥
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The morning silence is always followed by laughter, the soundtrack to my world.
So when I wake up, it's no surprise that I do so with a quiet chuckle, as I hear the unmistakable sound of Ice's overenthusiastic bark, wagging his tail with enough force to power a small generator.
"Okay, okay, Ice!"
I reach down to pet him, his cold nose nudging at my hand. "Morning Buddy, did you sleep well? Are you hungry? Shall we take a walk?" I ask, though I don't really expect an answer. Instead, he barks, loud and joyous, as if to say, "Bet you. We can do all of those things!"
The silence always comes before and after the laughter, but there was no silence after my laughter this morning. Practically living on my own after Mel moved out for college came with its own kind of eeriness. No one probably knows it, but I don't like being alone. I don't want to be alone.
Before Dad married Candice, he was often away, and the space only widened after they got married, especially when they moved to a big city at her insistence. Seeing him became nearly impossible. So, waking up alone, there's always been a silence, a void, in this vast house where the walls resonate with solitude. The only source of noise is ice.
I despise being alone. I dread the dark. But within these walls, that's all I have.
Normally, there's a silence before the laughter each morning, but not particularly this morning. Chatter and noises fill the air, and from where I lay, it's not hard to pinpoint where the sounds are coming from.
"What's all the ruckus about?" I asked Ice, who was panting with his tongue sticking out and staring down at me.
I drag myself out of bed, yawning and stretching like a contortionist trying to escape a straitjacket. Ice tails behind me. He sometimes acts like I'm his sidekick, always strolling in front of me, and today, it seems, is no exception.
I stumble over to the window, and as I pull back the curtains, I'm greeted by the familiar sight of famous black, gleaming cars. What is going on here? One, two, three—what's all this about? Immediately, my eyes widen as I realize something epic is in the works. Excitement bubbles up inside me because there's only one possible explanation for this kind of grand arrival: Dad is back.
I can barely contain my enthusiasm when I race out of my room, with Ice barking and trotting behind me. We both thundered down the stairs and straight into the living room, and there he was—the man of the hour, the life of the party—my dad.
