Amelia
It’s early in the evening when I hear the phone at my desk ringing. The ID shows that Dad is calling me.
“Yes, Mr. Brown,” I answer. Dad chuckles, as usual, causing me to roll my eyes.
“I can practically feel you rolling your eyes,” he says, knowing me all too well.
“That’s because you always make fun of me,” I tell him.
“I don’t always make fun of you,” he counters.
“You do, too,” I whine.
“Amelia, I don’t always make fun of you. I only do it sometimes,” he says, then cracks up laughing as if he’s told the best joke in history. I shake my head.
“Dad! You shouldn't be joking during work hours!” I scold him as if I’m the parent.
“I’m just kidding, Pumpkin,” he says as the laughter dies down. I silently smile, knowing he can't see me. Seeing him this cheerful is good, “I need
