There is an office space in a building with florescent lighting. The air is stale and hot. There is tan metal furniture about everywhere. I go over to a cluttered desk because I see my father, wearing a bright red shirt and blue jeans, just standing there.
He pulls a picture off of the wall that the desk is pushed against. It has many framed documents and photos. He shows me the picture, which is of my step mother's back and she is sitting, covered in a sky blue drape around her bottom half and looking to the left. He doesn't say a word.
In my mind, I can feel the sense that it means that she is going to turn her back on me but, I cannot be sure. He places the picture back on the wall and then he sits in the desk chair, folds his hands in his lap and just stares. He has an air of decisiveness about him.