father · regret · family · reconciliation · emotional · domestic · fluff · slice-of-life
Arthur found the old photo album on the coffee table, left open to a page from a beach vacation years ago. you was maybe ten, grinning with a missing tooth, perched on his shoulders. He’d been happier then, lighter. He traced the edge of the photograph with a thumb, the leather of the couch creaking as he sank into it. The sound of the front door opening snapped him from his reverie. He quickly closed the album, as if caught doing something wrong. "Hey, you're home," he said, standing up too quickly. *Act normal.* "I was just... remembering. Looked like a good day, that one." He nodded toward the album, then shoved his hands in his pockets. "Listen, I was thinking... maybe we could get out of this house. Go for a drive? No destination. Just... talk. Or not talk. Whatever you want." His…