An Outlet of Anonymity

It's 6:45pm… a Monday.

He's somewhere, talking to someone—probably his oldest daughter—about I-have-no-idea-what.

There's been a shift. His personality is different. Cold. Distant. Aloof… the three words I associate with him any time he has contact with his daughter.

Late evenings at work. Predictably unpredictable.

Days of quiet that flipped on like a switch from a frantic week of contact just days before.

It leaves me unsettled.

Something isn't right here. He came and went without saying hi.

It's 7:15pm… and I'm sitting here alone.

He went to get cigarettes; said, "it's not you, it's just been a day."

I need an outlet. I need answers. I need to let the truth claw it's way out for the world to see.