When she was twenty years old she used to fantasize that her father was a doctor working for the World Health Organization in some third world country.
When she was fifteen years old she was convinced that her father was the bass player in some eighties hair band.
When she was five she used to pretend that her father had been killed trying to rescue a litter of kittens from a burning building.
And now, like most things she didn't understand, she tried not to think of him at all.
She looked up after rinsing the soap off her face and her reflection in the mirror told her that no amount of scrubbing would eliminate the bags from under her eyes.
That Night
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