I sat on the couch, staring at the lampshade that I turned on the moment I came inside the living room a couple of minutes ago.
Or hours. I don’t know.
The moment I ran away, the first thing that came to mind when I thought of a safe place was our house. My Dad and mine’s house.
I intended to come here under different circumstances. Under circumstances that I wasn’t feeling this bad about some other things that have nothing to do with Dad nor my past life.
I wanted to come here, dedicating all my mind and heart for whatever I’d feel or experience once I come back after years. But here I am, coming here on a whim.
When I stepped inside the house, I thought I was going to be scared, being the first time to get back here after everything. That I’d remember every vivid memory of the las
