"Honey, I'm home!" Alex calls into the house, closing the door behind him quietly. He'd called about an hour earlier, saying he'd be home late. He glances around, finding the TV on and a bowl of ice cream on the table.

A frown touches your father's face. You hate ice cream. Why...?

He shrugs off his coat and drapes it over a nearby chair. He calls out into the house again, "Honey? Are you here?"

Just as he's about to stride up the stairs, you hurry down, clutching your phone. A smile of relief touches Alex's lips. "Hey, sweetheart. How are you?"