I don't want to talk to anyone.
Maybe Dad's onto something with this silent treatment thing.
I load up the car and head back home. It's weird to me that I am calling this home now. I scan the XM radio for something good...take my mind off all the oddities of the day. I stop briefly on a sports station, in time to hear about the Orlando Magic advancing to the NBA finals for only the second time in franchise history.
My nomadic spirit lead me to Orlando for a few months. Of all the places I had been I had never seen anything quite like it.
Flashes of friends and I shutting down Wall Street play like a movie in my head. For the first time today I crack a smile; which of course fades away again as soon as I pull into the junk yard that is now my home.
Back inside Dad hasn't moved and since he's decided to ignore me I walk past him to the kitchen to put everything away.
There's a pass through window, in the kitchen. I look through it from time to time as I remove the groceries from their bags.I can't believe he has not moved at all.
And now that I think of it...I don't know if I've even seen him blink.
I put everything down and walk out into the living room.
"Dad?"
No answer.
"Can you hear me?"
I'm standing right by him now...he remains still
I reach out a trembling hand and place it on his neck below his ear...
He's cold...and I feel nothing.
