He kept staring outside the window, towards the sunbaked branches of the huge tree that stood opposite to our one-floored rented house. It’s being more than an hour and he isn’t moving either talking to me about anything. There was something unusual in his behaviour; he had a scrunched sad face which I thought at first to be his ageing skin with wrinkles and the same unshaved beard, even his hair was uncombed, ruffled and unkempt falling across his forehead, his allover look gave me a grumpy feeling which somewhat was common to me, being his daughter. But it wasn’t that, I was disturbed and wondered what’s on his mind. It is the seventeenth year since my mother passed away giving birth to me. He brought me up and took the best care of me that he could alone, from bathing to dressing me up and combing my hair and dropping me to school on the retro bike that he held dearest to himself. He never cared about what people asked or said to him, the most common thing he was told was to remarry, but he never let that through his mind and kept reasoning that he wanted to share his love only to me. Earlier today he had been called to his workplace in the shoreline, his dearest friend and my loving Uncle Chan was his only business partner. I was about to leave for my college when dad informed me that he would be going across there, so he dropped me to my college and went by. When I returned home, he opened the door for me and went to sit near the window, where he is sitting still. I went into my room and changed into my clothes and freshened up. On my way to school, I kept thinking about Dad, and then the tiring day took that thought out of my head.