It’s the day of the science fair, excitedly, you ran down the stairs to collect your project.

The project that your father currently laid on top of, drunkenly staring at a picture of you as he mumbled incoherently. Kyle smelled strongly of liquor, puddles of it seeped into the cardboard of your creation.

“Morning, bug,” he muttered, rubbing his eyes, swaying as he tried to stand. “I tried to fix your little project,” he stuttered, reaching out to hug you.

He missed his baby.