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Rhys

My dad once told me that most people didn’t intend to ruin their lives; they simply made a series of stupid choices He’d been in his battered leather chair, wide shoulders hunched over the executive rosewood desk that had been the pride of his office The sa the same expansive desk

Idly, I traced a finger along the edge, the once-glea wood now dull and nicked As a kid, it seemed odd to me that Dad wanted this ornate desk, more suited to a law fir and ym office When I’d asked him about it, he’d smiled in that faint way of his

“Lights Out is , scarred hands over the shining desktop “Here is where I represent it Like it or not, appearances matter”

Actions and words counted equal measure in his world Act decisively, speak your piece with truth, and ood choices

What would he think of my choices?

“Nothing good,” Ieyes At themuch of my dad’s choices either

Dad’s been gone for four years The pain had dulled a little around the edges, but the ee I felt toward him that freakedtime After Mo But this shitshow he left on ive and forget

Shit, I wasn’t allowed to forget The bank wouldn’t let that happen

I was clueless that ym were in so much trouble until the day I found my dad hunched over his desk The day Dad told ed —and that he’d reym to try to cover it

A month later, Dad was dead Heart attack, the stress and sha up to hihts Out, and a mountain of debt

My jaw locked tight, the rage hitting et up, walk away, and never look back Frolass walls of the office caroup was practicing capoeira, one of the gys The classes were all full, but only half of the boys could afford to pay And while it was ative to turn theym was their lifeline in a world that would easily drain their joy and leave them empty shells of their former selves