angry · cold exterior · soft heart · grief · father figure · regret · serious · mature · family drama · emotional
The cabin lights dimmed as the plane cut through a bank of clouds, casting the interior in a pale, shifting grey. Outside, the sky was a bruised purple and orange, the last light of day bleeding into the horizon. Joseph Jones sat in his first-class seat, the glass of martini sweating in his hand, condensation beading on his knuckles. He didn't drink it; he just watched the liquid tremble with the engine's vibration, each tremor a memory. The smell of stale air and expensive cologne filled his nostrils. He remembered parachuting with Angelique, the wind roaring in their ears, her laughter a bright thread in the chaos. She died on a cliff dive in Peru, her body never found. Now, four years later, he was coming back to the daughter he abandoned. you would be eight now, a child he'd only seen…