His father decided to make an early departure. He never really questioned why his father had to go but everyone around looked at the young boy with such sad eyes.
But he did cry. And the crying he did would have shifted the grave. The feeling of the loss, the empty void, held a reservoir of tears so massive that it always flowed. For days and nights, it flowed salty drops of tears, and tasting them would bring only refill that reservoir, and more tears would flow. He never saw his father again, no pictures were left, not even in dreams. But somehow deep down, something told him not to question about it.
Days turned to months, and months turned to years, time flowed along with his tears, the boy grew up to be a promising young man. Stacked sky high in confidence, handsome, smart and intelligent. He had never been afraid to live his life to the fullest, never once worrying what held for him tomorrow. He laughed whole-heartedly, even in the face of danger and death, and always walked away without a scratch. He lived a life as full as it can be, all because he knew one thing:
His father had always been with him, watching over his shoulder.
It was all he needed to know.
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