Flash Fiction, Shorts

Father’s Day

It was Father’s Day again, and he didn’t have a clue what to do.

Having two father-figures in your life can be tricky sometimes, since all fathers are notoriously hard to please with purchased gifts. He wasn’t very good with talking, either, and words seemed to flow better for him in his mind. Besides, father’s don’t really talk about feelings or sentimental things that often, as a general rule.

He spent an entire day sitting at his little desk, thinking about an appropriate Father’s Day gesture. The media didn’t help. It rarely does. Plastered over the web like fly corpses was every person’s heartfelt pledge to their father. They slapped on their expressed love like stickers, and he wondered if that’s all they would do. Would they think longer than it took for them to type out some quick message, or would they try to make the one they love actually understand the gratitude that they felt?

Suddenly, he knew what he would do. He called himself stupid for not thinking of it in the first place. It had been staring him in the face all day.

He would write a story.

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