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june 23, 1928. | by nicholas ( lux aeterna )
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june 23, 1928.

Three years. It's hard to believe all that time has us passed by. Feels like only yesterday when I last heard his voice. Five times a year Jo and I make the pilgrimage to a sequestered cemetery by a lonely creek; his birthday, Father's day, Thanksgiving, Christmas, and the day it happened. We leave the city behind, the shop, our friends, our adulthood, forget our lives ever existed there, and head back to our childhood, when it was just us and the Manor. The only five days of the year when the mask isn't put on, because she needs to know I'm there.

 

I still wonder if it was luck or fate that knocked us right into his feet at the train station the day he found us. He wasn't our real father, even if he raised us as if we were his own. One thing I'll never figure out is the cruel joke the gods played on us that day; They gave us a second chance at having a father, only to take it all away again.

 

 

Happy Times

 

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Sorry if it's a little grim. Happy Father's day to all that are here, and to the ones that have passed as well.

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Taken on June 19, 2021