I remember a day when a storm raged in my house. It bubbled and frothed until my mother exploded out of the front door, escaping to a calmer sea.
My father watched her curls fly behind her as she carried the currents of their fading love outside.
"Why aren’t you chasing her?"
He just looked at me.
"Isn’t that what people do when they love each other? Run after her! Tell her you love her!"
He just looked at me
and with memories slowly escaping from behind his eyelids
he smirked and shook his head.