Little Things

He tidied his bed for the first time in months, flattening out the sheets perfectly before trudging to the kitchen to wash the dirty dishes from weeks prior. He counted the amount of time it took to wash everything: thirty-six minutes and forty-two seconds.

He picked up all the trash on the floor and threw them into the overflowing garbage bag next to the front door. He stood atop a chair and shifted his weight to his toes, hesitating for a short moment. 

“I should throw that trash out,” he muttered to himself, slowly stepping off the chair and dragging the bag out the door and into the bin. He walked back into the house, getting on top of the chair again. He extended his arm out towards the light, scanning the area around him.

Beep beep.

He hopped off and walked to the dishwasher. He opened its door and began to unload the dishes. Some of the dishes were dry while the others were still dripping with water. He had no choice but to sit and wait for the rest of them to dry before he could put them away.

With the final beep of the machine, he put away the rest of the dishes and made his way to the living room again. He spotted a picture frame that had been flipped over on the coffee table. He picked it up and stared at it for a moment. He stroked the glass frame with his thumb before placing it back in its spot. 

The chair looked ominous in the middle of the room, almost like it was surrounded by darkness instead of light. Yet, it was the most inviting place in his home.

With all his weight now on the chair, he looked down at the floor, almost searching for a reason. A large, dark stain on the carpet caught his attention. A sigh of relief came out of him as he rushed to the closet to get cleaning supplies and a clean rag. For approximately twenty-four minutes and fifty-three seconds, he scrubbed at the stain. It hardly budged at all so with that, he stood up and let out a big sigh. 

He left his house to go buy stain remover at the store, leaving the chair ominously in the middle of the room.

Upon his arrival back, he sat next to the stain and rubbed at it until his hands turned red and sweaty. He wiped the beads of sweat on his forehead before abruptly standing up and neatly putting away the supplies. 

As if he were on a mission, he made his way to the chair again. However, instead of standing atop it, he sat on it and put his face in his hands. “I'm a coward,” he firmly grabbed onto the backrest of the chair and put both feet onto its surface. He rose up straight and reached out his arms. 

His legs began to shake and the world around him spun rapidly. 

Ding-dong.

Ding-dong.

He let himself falter onto the ground and stayed there for a while. His head whipped up at the sound of the doorbell. 

Ding-dong.

Ding-dong.

He gathered the energy and walked to the door, abruptly swinging it open. A wave of blonde hair hit his face as thin arms wrapped around his torso. The person pulled away, staring at him with tears in her eyes.

“Dad, I missed you so much!” She exclaimed before pulling him into another hug. 

Behind her, a lady leaned against a red sports car on the side of the street, almost as if to flaunt her wealth. “Dad!” His eyes darted to meet hers. “Why didn’t you call me? When did you move?” She pushed him aside softly and stepped foot into the house. He blocked her path and averted her attention to her mother outside.

"How's your mother doing?" He knew fairly well that she was doing just fine with her new, rich husband. She shrugged her shoulders and flipped her hair to the back. "She's doing fine. She got married for the third time. Fred is a jerk though."

He hadn't known that she had moved on so quickly, or so many times. Fred, her new husband, and his daughter's new father. He had already accepted this fate, however. He was forced out of her life and wasn't in the right situation to be a father to her. Quite frankly, he didn't deserve to be her father.

"You're way better though! I wouldn't trade you for the world! Can I stay with you?" Her eyes were sparkling with joy at the thought. He shook his head and put his hand on her shoulder. "You already know that your mother hates me. She would never allow that." The wrinkles at the corners of her eyes relaxed as her smile dropped.

"That's not true..." She looked down at the ground before perking up again. "I wanna see inside your house before I go though!"

His eyes widened as he remembered the set up in the living room. He shook his head and put his hands up in an X-shape. "I didn't clean yet! It's super dirty." He nervously smiled and gently pushed her back. "How about another time?"

"I don't know when I'll see you again!" She opened her mouth again but was interrupted by the whistling sound of her mother. "I don't want to say goodbye yet!" She marched her way into the house, catching him off guard.

She pranced into the living room, halting to a stop in front of the chair in the middle of the room. She looked up and directly above it, hung a rope. 

"Dad, what were you-"

A tear escaped his eye, streaming down his cheeks and dripping onto the ground. He slumped down onto the ground and wept as his daughter ran over to embrace him.

He couldn't bring himself to do anything.

It was the little things that made him realize, he didn't want to say goodbye after all.