Today, my father was standing outside, like always smoking his pipe. But there was a heavy burden on his shoulders. Through the stained window, I watched him. He sat down and continued burning tobacco. I swear I saw a tear drop crawl down his cheek but the rain poured. He put down the pipe and stood up.
He walked down the steps, looked up, and smiled. Hands drawn out of his pockets, arms spread out, catching the rain. His chest rised and lowered in a large sigh. He looked back at me. "Goodbye" I read from his lips. The pipe stopped burning. My father disappeared. This was my favorite memory of my father.
·Like always, this photo is not owned by me·
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Short Stories
Short StoryThese are just little stories I have in my head from time to time, so I write them down and I don't know what to do with them... so here ya go!
