I got home just as the sun was starting to set.
I pushed the door open slowly, careful not to let it creak. The house was quiet, and dark.
The curtains were drawn. The TV was off. No smell of coffee either.
Dad was probably still asleep.
Phew!
I slipped my shoes off and held them in my hand, tiptoeing towards the stairs, like the house might scold me if I moved too loudly.
"June."
I froze.
My stomach dropped.
Slowly, I turned around.
Dad was sitting on the couch, his back was slightly hunched, and his hands were resting on his knees.
The lamp beside him was off, but the early light coming through the curtains was enough for me to see his face.
He looked like he hadn't slept throughout the night.
"Good morning, Dad," I said softly, like that might soften whatever was coming next.
I waited for the yelling.
The disappointment.
The lecture about disappearing for two days.
But he didn't raise his voice.
He just sniffed.
That somehow hurt more.
