ִ ࣪⋆˙⟡ . - ᘛ мσσиlιgнт ᘚ. .✦.ִֶָ𓂃 ࣪˖ ִֶָ🌕་༘࿐. ⟢ . 𖦹 ׂ 𓈒 ／ ⋆ ۪

━━━ ⠀ ㅤ𝟎.𝟎𝟐 ⠀ ⠀ ༝ ۫ ⠀ ⠀ ᭪

𝑴𝒀 𝑴𝑰𝑵𝑫 𝑾𝑶𝑵𝑫𝑬𝑹𝑬𝑫 off the dream that I had the night before, as my father drove me to the airport. It was currently sixty-six degrees in Florida, the sky a dreary, cloudy gray. The light drizzle of rain beat against my window and slid down with a quiet pitter patter.

I pulled the strings of my favorite black and white windbreaker as I thought of how it would be a long time before I'd be able to wear it again. So I considered myself wearing it now as a temporary adieu.

I let out a snort, at which my dad gave me a questioning look at. I shook my head at him and dimly thought of how my jacket wouldn't be the only thing I'd have to say goodbye to for now.

In the west subregion of the western United States, a small town named Dubois existed in Wyoming, surrounded by mountains and forest. Due to its elevation and relatively cool climate, it's either always snowing around this time, raining or colder than a polar bears ass crack. All three things that don't get along with curly, wild hair that draw up from a single drop of water. It was from this sleepy, old and ubiquitous state that I left not too long ago to spend the first two and a half years of college with my dad. The town that I left ever so happily after my highschool graduation at the age of 15. That was the final year that I would have my father come vacation with me for 2 lousy weeks in wack ass Wyoming.

Now that the second semester of college had rolled its way around, I decided it was time to go back. Banishing myself now to the one place I abhorred more than frizzy untamed hair in the morning, I took the action with great detest.

It was Florida that I respected and appreciated. The warmth of the sun it would cast brightly. The palmetto trees that would catch the wind in its leaves ever so gently. But most of all, the zestful sparkling beaches.

"Gabby," my dad called me to gain my attention. "Do you have everything with you?" he asked me, uncertainty for the thousand times before I unloaded my belongings and boarded the plane. "We can always go back to the house and check just in case and catch the next flight".

He didn't want me to go, so he was stalling as much as possible. Saying without saying he wanted me to stay with him. My father looks similar to me, if you don't count his hair texture and smile lines. I felt a surge of alarm as I stared at his fierce, intense eyes. How could I leave my reckless, absent minded, unpredictable father to take care of himself? Of course he now had Priscilla, so the bills would get payed on time, warm food on the table, laundry already washed and folded neatly, gas in the car tank, someone to call if he got lost and fell in a ditch....

Distracting myself from that dark thought, I willed myself to calm down.

"But dad I want to go," I lied. I'd always been a good liar, so the fib came naturally off my tongue.

"Tell Reneéza hi for me."

"Don't worry, I will."

"Alright then, I'll see you later," he relented. "If you change your mind and decide to come back home to your old pops, I'll come get ya quicker than this beard trying to grow."