"Dawnie," he said, gently. "It's not--"
She laughed, bitterly, as she pulled away from his touch, washing up in the corner of her small bedroom, her arms folded, a barrier between them. "You don't need to say that. I know it's not the end of the world. You don't cry at the end of the world, unless it's the only thing you can do, and even then it doesn't help anything. You do the job, and cry later. Well, it's not the end of the world but it is later, and I'm worried, so just shut up, Dad."
Comments always welcome at dsudis@yahoo.com