Jayne walked down the busy city street. She pulled the note out of her pocket so gram wouldn’t wash it again. She ran her fingers along the writing where her dad had almost torn through the paper with his pen. I imagined that pen probably in his pencil can at work. A black pen with a stubby golden nub. It was this pen that wrote the script she learned to read in. She remembered being small trying to decipher the words her dad had written for her to learn. She looked at the note. It had been folded a million times over to fit in backpacks, suitcases, and coat pockets. The times it had gone through the wash had ran the ink together so she couldn’t read it if she hadn’t memorized what it said by heart.
Dearest Jayne,

I’m so sorry to have to do this to you again. I was called away on a business trip last night and had to leave. It’s for the best. I know I always say that, but its always true. I already called in sick for you and gram will come to get you around noon. I can’t contact you where I’m going but I’ll be home soon. I promise.






Love you so much,








Dad