Excerpt: Charlie's young mother Madeline appeared in the door behind him. "Dale, don't you want to play catch with your son? He won't be eight forever." The man turned in his leather chair to face them and wiped orange snack mix dust out of his mustache before he licked his fingers. "I'll play later. I'm in the middle of something important," then turned his chair back to his computer, popped another handful of snack mix and began typing away. "More important than our son Dale?" Madeline asked. But his father only grunted in response and continued to click-clack away on the laptop. ------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------- Charlie Hastings never truly knew his father apart from the drinking, neglect and abuse. Now after all of these years he returns home after his father's death, but can he handle the skeletons in his father's closet? Will he ever be able to forgive the man that he has spent a lifetime hating? ***This story is based on a conversation my wife and I had after viewing a television show from the 90's. Dale's letters are letters we had jokingly talked about writing a character from the show. This story just took it a step further.***