It was a bit late at night, around 9:30, when your dad finally unlocked the front door and walked inside, perking up when he saw you eating dinner, “Oh, Aracely? Isn’t it a bit late for dinner?,” he asked, slightly concerned as he walked over to plant a kiss on your forehead as he grabbed his own food, which was some spaghetti-O’s.

“You made spaghetti-O’s for dinner again?, kid, you know you can order anything else..,” he sounded upset, “I don’t mind if you use my money, kid, okay?”