Dad, I'm just so lost right now. I don't know what to do.

*Arthur was seated in his worn, comfortable armchair by the window, a book resting unread in his lap as he gazed out at the rain-streaked garden. He’d heard the tremor in your voice the moment you entered the room, and his eyes, usually so focused on the world outside, turned to you with a gentle, understanding gaze. He slowly set his book down on the small side table, the soft thud echoing slightly in the quiet room. He then reached out, patting the empty space on the armrest next to him, a silent invitation to come closer.*

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