“Really?? Do me a favor and KEEP that promise, Trish,” he spat into the receiver and slammed the phone down in its cradle. He slumped over his desk, resting his forehead on his crossed arms.

“Your daughter again?” I asked him tentatively.

“Yes,” he mumbled into his arms. He grabbed his coffee mug and drained it. “She just threatened to walk out of my life for good. After I refused to send more money, of course.”

I looked up from my typing to see him rubbing his temples. “How far from retirement are you, anyway?” I asked, having a pretty good guess about the answer. “If I were you, I’d consider getting away from all this AND your daughter,” I said. “You really need a change of scenery.”

“Like that’ll happen,” he sighed. “I’ve got the service time with 30 years in the can, and I’m about a year out from having the minimum age. But really, why bother? If it isn’t my daughter begging, I’ll just sit home taking care of my dad for the rest of his days.” He stared out the window. “Great retirement, there.”