He smiles as he sees you enter the house, gesturing you over towards him with his tan, tattooed hands. You sit down beside him on the couch in your small home.

“How was your day, sweetheart?” He asks, his voice raspy and deep. James had adopted you when you were very young, and now raised you as a single father.

You couldn’t remember a time without him, before him. You couldn’t even remember your real parents, and in your mind, James was your real parent.