2023/Cayla -

We all sat down in a circle around the TV. My mom had a nervous expression on her clouded face. “Are you ready?” she would ask us five more times in just as many minutes.

The TV flashed bright white, before a face appeared on the screen. It was my dad. I recognized that face, but something was different. His skin was a deeper brown, a more rich hue. I twisted and crinkled my face into different shapes in hopes that he would go back to how I’d last seen him. He looked worn down, and tired. He smiled, and I could tell he was trying to appear happier than he was. An eccedentesiast, one who had perfected his craft, too.

He talked, but I wasn’t listening. Hues of purple and blue clouded my mind. I couldn’t think- couldn’t come to the conclusion that he wasn’t coming back for so much longer than before. Last time was easy, he was gone and back in a flash of blue-ish green.

His grin faded, turned more into a rictus of repulsion. His eyes stared blankly at the screen as he went on and on about how much he missed us. I felt an overwhelming feeling of orange pass through me.

Towards the end of the video when we heard another voice- one more pressing. The face came into view, a tint of orange and tan. I could feel the green and brown shades of their uniforms come through the screen.

My dad’s face changed- his time was running out. His rictus shifted to a more vivacious smile, the kind where his forehead shrinks a little. He said a few quick words that I didn’t quite catch, and then that was it. The TV shifted to a deep black. The video was over.

I missed him, I wished I focused more on his words. It wasn’t until my mom scooped me up that I realised I was crying. The lights turned on, flushing my eyes with a bright hue of memories.