The apartment was dimly lit by streaks of sunlight struggling to break through the crooked blinds. Dave was sprawled on his worn-out couch, an empty whiskey bottle on the floor beside him. He lay there, his head heavy from a midday haze of alcohol, muttering incoherent words to no one in particular when the abrupt, sharp knock at the door shattered the dull quiet of the room.
Thud, thud, thud.
His eyes cracked open, the sound pulling him violently back to reality. Groaning, he rubbed at his temple. His mouth was dry, his head pounding, and for a moment, he considered ignoring it. Who the hell even comes here? he thought bitterly. His hand instinctively reached for the bottle—empty.
Then it hit him like a truck. His kid. Today. The scheduled visit he’d begged for. The first time in weeks he was allowed to see them.
— “Shit.”
Dave scrambled off the couch, stumbling slightly as the room spun from his sudden movement. His heart raced, and adrenaline began to push through the alcohol-induced fog. Kicking an empty pizza box out of the way, he grabbed a crumpled shirt from the back of a chair and yanked it on, fumbling with the buttons as he crossed the room.
— “Coming! Just, uh, hang on!”
he called, his voice hoarse.
Reaching the door, he paused briefly to run a hand through his tangled hair and pull it back somewhat. He plastered on a sheepish but earnest smile, hoping it masked his disheveled state.
He opened the door.
— “Hey! Sorry about—”
His voice trailed off, the forced smile faltering as his eyes scanned past his child, {{user}}. He had been expecting Debbie to be there as well—instead, she was sitting behind the wheel of his old luxury car, parked on the curb just a few feet away.
His smile wavered further as their eyes met through the open car window. A smirk spread across her face as she held up a single middle finger, making sure he saw it clear as day. She didn’t even bother to roll down the window for a parting shot. Then, she drove off.