A Dangerous Game

"That should be the last box!" my father says cheerfully. He stretches his back and groans. "I didn't realize you were bringing so much with you or I would of made up an excuse!". He winks at me roguishly and tucks his hands in his pockets. I look around my tiny bungalow, now stacked waist high with boxes and sigh. "you know most of this is for my store front Dad. It won't be here for very long." I respond absent mindedly starting to open up a box. "I pick up the keys on Monday morning and then I'll be able to move all this stuff in." My dad peers out the door "Em, are you sure your old rust bucket can handle moving all these boxes again?" he asks concerned. "Don't call her a rust bucket! I love her just the way she is." I respond pulling back my shoulder length wavy red hair in a messy bun, and coming up behind my father to peer out the door behind him on my aging red Jeep Wrangler. "Dad you better get going soon, it's looking like rain and you still have a two hour drive back home." I say, wishing he could stay longer and help me unpack. "Good idea champ" he replies tousling my already messy hair and giving me a hug that envelopes my small 5'3 frame. I peer up into his watery blue eyes that match mine and give him a squeeze "love you Dad. I promise I'll call everyday." I mumble to him pressing my face into his shoulder and feeling the soft flannel under my cheek. "See that you do. I don't want you going and getting all successful on me and forgetting all about your old man!" he replies laughing gathering his keys and coat. "Never ever" I smile at him my eyes starting to tear up. I watch as my aging father jumps up into his waiting pickup truck and slowly backs out and drives away into the sprinkling rain.