I’d Rather Dig Horses’ Shit

XANDRY

After hearing Dad’s faint deep voice telling me to come in, I walked inside. He was sitting behind his glass top desk. His office was modern and boring surrounded by glass walls. There was no decoration other than his chair, the desk, two chairs in front, a small coffee table, and a single file drawer. No family photos, paintings on the wall, nor rags.

Alexander Phoenix Williams had a principle that family would come first, and he made sure to leave the office on time and spend time with us. He had a high ceiling symmetry dark-stained wood office and library at home he shared with Mom. My mother, Samantha collected all the books published by her publishing house plus the books she had when she was young. She was also a fantasy-adventure author under the pseudonym of Hanna Andry.

Dad’s fingers were linked together on top of his desk without uttering a word.

“Hey, Dad,” I