Part 1: (Will continue if people like it) Every morning, like clockwork, my dad would leave the house at exactly 8:00 AM. It had become a routine so ingrained that I hardly noticed it anymore. He would give me a quick smile, pat me on the shoulder, and head out the door to work. I would go about my day, school or chores, never giving much thought to his early departures.
But one day, curiosity got the better of me. As I watched him head towards the door, something compelled me to ask, “Dad, where do you go every morning at 8:00?”
He paused, his hand on the doorknob, and looked at me with a strange mixture of sadness and reluctance in his eyes. “It’s something I’ve been doing for a long time,” he replied cryptically, his voice tinged with a hint of sorrow. “But you don’t need to worry about it, okay?”
His response only fueled my curiosity. The mystery of his daily routine gnawed at me, and I couldn’t shake the feeling that there was more to it than he was letting on. As the days went by, my thoughts were consumed by his secret outings.
One morning, unable to resist any longer, I decided to follow him. I woke up early, my heart pounding with a mixture of excitement and apprehension. I watched from my window as he left the house and walked down the street. I waited a few minutes before cautiously following him at a distance.
He walked through the quiet streets, seemingly lost in thought. Eventually, he arrived at a park – a place I had visited countless times before. He walked to a secluded bench and sat down, staring off into the distance with a distant look in his eyes.
I found a spot to hide where I could observe him without being seen. Minutes turned into hours, and I watched as people passed by, oblivious to his presence. The sun rose higher in the sky, and my impatience grew. What was he doing here all this time?
Just as I was about to give up and leave, a figure emerged from the trees, approaching my dad with a slow, deliberate pace. My heart raced as I tried to make out the person’s features. They were dressed in dark clothes, their face obscured by shadows. My dad stood up and exchanged a few words with the stranger – words I couldn’t hear from my hiding place.
Then, the stranger handed my dad something – a small, intricately carved box. My dad took it with a solemn expression, his hands trembling slightly. They shook hands before the stranger disappeared back into the trees, leaving my dad alone with the mysterious box.
I watched as my dad stared at the box, his eyes filled with a mixture of sadness and determination. After a few minutes, he stood up and began to walk away, the box clutched tightly in his hand.
I waited a few moments before emerging from my hiding spot, my mind racing with questions. What was in the box? Who was that stranger? And why did my dad seem so burdened by this secret?
As I walked back home, the weight of the mystery settled heavily on my shoulders. I had a feeling that my life was about to change in ways I couldn’t yet comprehend, and I knew that I was determined to uncover the truth behind my dad’s enigmatic morning routine.