Dante

Chapter Eighteen

Reigny Garcia...

I stared at the blank television. My mind wondered to last night's dream.

The dream that seems to haunt my every move.

~~~~~~~~
My father was sitting at his desk in his office and was sitting his lap like I usually do while he was doing paperwork.

It was just him and I because my mother decided to visit her sister.

I love my mother, but I love having father/daughter time especially when he was working in the home office.

I would always try to copy him in everything he did. If he tapped his forehead with the blue pen the I would tap my forehead with the same color pen. If he let out a frustrated sigh, then I would let out a frustrated sigh but mine came out as a squeak.

Whenever he would mutter something under his breath, I would do the same thing.

I was my father's copy.

As I was just making squiggly lines on my paper, my father grabbed me on my left, slightly chubby side making squeal in surprise making him laugh.

I turned around and tried gave him my best impression of him.

His scary death glare.

Whenever my father gave anyone the death glare, people knew that my father meant business and people were always shaking in fear of it.