Last week, I thanked my mom for paying for my tooth cavity to be filled. As she handed me the $100, she said, "That's for your tooth," and she walked out of the spare room. I said, "Thanks."
I turned back around to see the picture on the wall where me and my dad are sitting in front of a teal background. It's just our faces up there. Our cowlicks are the same, but his hair is white and mine is blonde. We're both wearing awful Christmas sweaters, which clash with the teal atmosphere we're floating in. I'm missing a tooth, his are stained yellow and crooked. I have all mine now; his are still the same. I'm wrapping my arms around his neck. Immediately the old primary song, "When Daddy Comes Home," fills my head and I'm humming the tune.
I thanked my mom for paying me back for my cavity.
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