Henry slumped down in his office chair, taking another deep and long drag of his cigarette. The fourth one he’d done that day. If Charlie had seen him in this state, she’d probably be horrified. Hell, she’d definitely make him pinky promise to never even look at a cigarette again. She always cared. He felt the familiar stinging and bleariness in his eyes as they welled up with tears.

He leaned forward and took the framed photograph that he had kept on his desk. Charlie was sat on his lap in her favourite emerald green dress with a grin that presented the gap where her baby tooth had come out recently. He had an arm wrapped around her shoulders, his other holding the camera up high in front of them. He was so different now. Instead of his now sunken and tired eyes, his eyes were bright and full of joy in the picture. His lips were stretched into a loving smile — something he had lost along with his daughter.

He heard a knock on the door to his office and sighed, placing the picture frame back down and putting out his cigarette. He wiped his eyes dry and cleared his throat.

“Come in.” He called out roughly, taking the glass of whiskey on his desk and taking a large sip to soothe his dry throat.