Isabelle is a teenager.
Some nights she barely looks at me. Some nights I don’t exist.
That’s okay. It’s where we are right now.
But tonight was different.
I got back late from the hockey game with Anthony. The house was quiet. I didn’t expect much.
She passed by me in the hallway—and she smiled.
Then she said, “Hello and good night.”
Just like that.
No eye roll. No sigh. No silence.
It wasn’t dramatic. It wasn’t long.
But it was something.
And I’ll take that.
Tonight was a good night.
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