Free to Write

The keys made an ominous tapping sound as he sat at the table waiting. With every tap, it was clear that he was getting madder, although no one was in the kitchen to be intimidated by it. The clock struck three--in the morning when there was a giggle and a shushing sound from the front door, followed by the sound of someone trying to get in and missing the door at least three times.

He dropped the keys on the table and walked over to the door, making a conscious effort to avoid the outraged stalk that he felt entitled to. The people on the other side of the door didn't even appear to notice him until the door was open and they tumbled in.

"Hi, Dad," came one voice. His daughter.

"Hi, Mr. Anderson," came the other. Her date. "It's all my fault we're late. I got lost halfway from Moscow to Paris."