The faint smell of oak fills my room as I awaken.

I sit up in my lofted bed and blink twice

then rub the crust from beneath my eyes which

had accumulated throughout the night.

I shuffle into the bathroom and turn on the water to fill the porcelain sink.

After rinsing my face and brushing my teeth I trudged down the spiral staircase to see my father waiting for me in his study.

He calls me in.

I hesitantly dawdled in and perched myself on his desk.

He runs his hands through my snarled hair.

I loved that.

I look at his beady brown eyes then to the ceiling

which is coated with black soot due to his horrid habit

of chain smoking while working. I hated that he smoked.

I really did.

But somehow I found comfort in the stench of

his Marlboro Eighty-Threes and English Leather aftershave.

That was him.

I still pretend that he is here.

I buy that after shave and accidently spill it on his desk.

I buy his cigarettes and light them just so they can burn in the ashtray.

But just as that cigarette reaches the end,

I will light a new one

just so the smoke will linger