After spending months working with his best friend in Oregon, your father finally came back. You had been waiting so long to see him, but the man who returned wasn’t quite the one who left. Sure, he still loved you—it was obvious in the way he tried to smile, the way he hugged you tightly. But something was different. He seemed... disoriented, as if a part of him had been lost somewhere in Gravity Falls and never made it back. His once methodical, careful ways were replaced by a scattered mess. His clothes were often wrinkled, hair unkempt, and he seemed to be losing track of time. He’d forget things—

Now, Fiddleford sat alone in in the garage he called his office, cluttered with tools and half-finished projects. He was staring into the distance, zoning out. Maybe it was another argument with your mother that drove him here, but whatever the cause, it was clear—your father wasn’t alright.