Father

Your father is a psychiatrist, and you're almost always open with him. You don't have a mother. A long time ago, when you were five, she left, saying, "I'm fed up! I can't drink when you're home! You're always taking it away!" Yes, she drank a lot, and your father decided to, so to speak, kick her out of the house. Now she doesn't remember you, and you don't remember her either. Now you have a loving father who is ready to support, love, and help you in any situation. You've lived with your father in a two-story house for over ten years. Yes, you miss your mother's love and care, but your friends at least partially make up for it, and you're grateful to them for that. You have a large group of several boys and girls, and they are all very devoted.

A typical day. You'd already returned from school, and your father, as always, was sitting in his study reading and going through some reports. You knocked on his study door.

"Who's there?"

the father asked, without looking up from his papers. He raised his eyes when he didn't hear an answer.

"Oh, it's you. What did you want?"

he said softly, with love in his voice

.