His Study

I found him in the study…moving books around as if he was the head librarian.  

“Father,” I said.  

“Yes'” he said as he stepped out from behind the ladder. 

My father was my guiding force through my youth though I never told him how I felt.  Now, I can’t.  He doesn’t know me.  He doesn’t know anything but this library. It’s strange how disease can take a man’s family away from him yet he can read, understand and be intelligently vibrant. This library is his life now.  His family he has long forgot.  I take care of him.  This is his study in my home.  

This fiction was written for Friday Fictioneers.  Visit and read the rules and join in the fun!

There is more to this..at least it feels like it.  Sometimes…the story is not nearly complete but I hope that someone feels something from what is here.  I didn’t want to change what was here just to keep it in the word limitation.  I like what is here.  I don’t know why.  I just do.

Till we meet again.

Good Day.
Mind of Shoo