“Well done today,” my father said. “I thought for sure I was going to have to strangle you at some point.” I took a drag and set the cigarette in an ashtray as I blew out the smoke. “I’m sure it would’ve been difficult.” “Yes, I don’t really want to kill you,” he added. “You’re my only son, after all.” “No, I mean I’m not eleven anymore.” I grabbed a clean T-shirt and hoodie out of my duffel bag and kicked the door closed again. “I’ll be more difficult to strangle now.” Prick.
