"Be a good girl," said Mr. Hernandez, her father. She smiled at him.
"Elvis, we are running late," said Mrs. Hernandez, her stepmother. She looked at the car in which she was sitting. She was unsure what her stepmother's problem was with her. She clearly does not show hatred towards her, but she does not like her either.
Mr. Hernandez smiled and hugged her. She hugged her father back.
"I will try to visit you," he said, making movements from his hand. She knew her father was only squandering his words; he was not a man who kept his promises. He took a deep breath and turned towards his car. He got in the car and waved at her. She waved at him back. After a while, his car was out of her sight.
She sighed and turned. They had a flight in an hour, a flight back to Washington.
The buildin
