She touched the little box in her pocket and smiled as she approached the doorstep. After all, it was all that she had left of him - this small case encompassing a variety of worn, plastic guitar picks. She had never really known him, her father, but she knew that he loved her with all his heart. Even if he had left her to be raised by an orphanage at the age of four. Her daddy was a star, selling out arenas and touring the entire world. That didn't mean he didn't love her. He promised that he would come back for her. Someday. Until then, she had the company of his rusted and tattered guitar. She took comfort in his possessions, viewing them as validations of the promise made to her so many years ago. But as she grew older, these things became less and less of a contentment. Why hadn't her father come? Wasn't he longing to reunite with his only daughter whom he'd promised to return for?
And so she stood now, upon the welcome mat that she knew to be her father's. The excitement that flooded her veins was prodigious; her hand shook violently as it formed a fist, and rose to contact the rough wood of the door. Shuffling footsteps could be heard within moments, her heartbeat increasing rapidly. She closed her eyes, breathing in the cool November air. The door creaked open.
"Umm..h-hi. My name's Mattie. I - I'm here to see my father? I'm sorry to just burst in like this but I was told this is where I would find him and I just really wanted to see him again because it's been so long and I - I really miss him and - "
"Sweetie, I'm real sorry, but I think you've got the wrong address. I've been livin' here with my husband and my three little girls for ten years now. I'm so sorry. I would help you if I could, believe me."
"But..."
"Good luck findin' your daddy, sweetie."

And just over the woman's shoulder, she was met with the cold gaze of her pathetic father.