Ficlets

The Writer Decides She Hates Secrets

I turned back to papa. “Have they been treating you well?”

I could practically feel a ‘death glare’ on my back, but I ignored it.

“Like royalty,” papa said. I was glad he was in the mood for joking. I knew I wouldn’t be joking.

“Okay…would you like me to stay?” I said, sitting down again, by the bedside.

“Nah, go ahead and go home,” papa waved his hand dismissively, as if he hadn’t been talking about death and destruction a few minutes ago. “I bet Seamus wants to see you.”

“That’s probably true,” I admitted, shouldering my jacket. “I’ll come tomorrow, okay?”

“Alright. I’ll be waiting for you,” papa, said, patting my hand again.

I smiled at him and Dr. Parks before I left the room.

As soon as I stepped outside, I changed my demeanor.

Angry, pissed off Aidan was back, and she wasn’t happy. It was time that I got things straight with Mr. Smarty.

He’s been prancing about and carrying way too many secrets for my liking.

As I walked, I mused over a thought.

I hate secrets.

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