Dad

You go downstairs, attracted by the familiar smells and also sounds, a weird feeling in your gut is telling to get closer to something you've long started to dread... maybe you really are missing 'him'.

The door to the kitchen is slightly pried open.

Coming in, your nose picks on the light, manly scent of cigar smoke. Your father is already furiously mixing something in a bowl.

The kitchen looked more like a biohazard as always, the table is STACKED with packets of flour and messed up in eggshells scattered all over.

Not even in a blink and almost by the scruff of your neck, you got sent standing straight in front of the kitchen counter, awaiting your doom next to Dad. He stops stirring for a moment, glancing at you.

"Good evening, champ. I thought a little help baking would be nice."

Dad nods towards the steaming blueberry glaze. It looks like you have no choice.. Just as you were getting really upset though, he places a free hand on your shoulder.

"Don't worry, I know you can do this. I will teach you everything."

He spoke calmly, now rubbing your back a bit.