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PATCHING BROKEN WINGS
Be thankful or not. Be thankful or not. Be thankful or not.
This phrase kept rewinding over my head as I try to make a straight eye contact with dad. His place looks rundown with the wallpapers barely sticking on the walls, hanging for their lives. The tiling screams for replacement, water pipes to the fore of the wall, and a defunct hanging clock that seems more like an embellishment rather than a useful instrument. Not to mention the noisy neighbors having a spat at the adjoining room.
“How are you darling?” he said coolly.
I can feel pity, anger, and gratefulness all at the same time. He’s a trainwreck and I have a lot of pointed questions that I needed answer.
“Thank you for saving me last night,” I answered plainly.
That’s the only sincere respond that I’m going to give him. I don’t want to discredit his valiant effort though t
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