A Storyby M. J. Hyland
“Dad. What are you doing here so early?”
“Relax,” he said. “There’s nothing to worry about.”
It wasn’t yet eight-thirty, and I wasn’t in the mood for him. I’d walked home to save the bus fare after a ten-hour night shift, and I wanted a shower and sleep.
“Did you knock?”
“No,” he said. “I didn’t knock. I didn’t want to wake anybody. I was just going to leave the pineapple on your doorstep, but then I sat down to rest for a minute and you turned up.”