Gaze by Kai Double

Evie couldn’t wait. It was that time of the night again. Sure, it came around each and every day, but it still made her stomach somersault with anticipation watching the clock’s hand go round. Hitting 8 o’clock she practically bounded up from her bed and headed down the hall. Her mother was working away in the study, creamy coffee on one side of her keyboard and a bag of pretzels on the other. Sitting above her computer was a picture in a simple but elegant refurbished pine frame; Evie, her mother and her father at the dessert festival two years ago. Evie always treasured the sense of security that passing by her mother brought. She reached the end of the hall, and opened the window. Slipping out, she effortlessly climbed onto their roof and laid down. Looking up at the stars she wondered what her dad might have discovered today?! In the back of her head, she made a note of all the constellations she could make out tonight, like she does every night so she could ask him when he returned. Staring up at the luminous moon she let herself flood with the memories of times she had spent with her father. The warm belief in his promise to return safe and sound bubbled away in her stomach as she fell asleep watching the universe. Just like him.

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