Pray for Daddy
I closed my eyes last night. Dear God, I said, hand clasped in hand. Please give Daddy what he has always wanted: happiness. Last night, as the sirens sounded from the distance, and downstairs my mother and him were fighting, I prayed for my Daddy. Amen.
My name is Brian, and I am three years old. I have a Daddy, I have a Mummy, I have everything a little boy could possible want. But my Daddy, he has nothing. He only wants happiness. And every night, I pray for God to give it to him.
After I got home from pre-school, I remembered something: it was my birthday. I was four years old.
“Daddy, Daddy, it’s my birthday today!” I said, running up to him as he sat at the kitchen table, head in hands.
“Shut up you little brat, don’t you have homework?
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