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 It felt heavy. The hardened steel loop, the worn brass shell, and the ‘Master’ logo stamped on the sides. It was a combination lock with four dials and the usual set of numbers. His father had it on a shelf above his desk ever since he got back from that long business trip he left for so long ago. The lock was not callously placed on the shelf; it was dead center, standing upright for all to see with space on both sides, framing it in view.

Little Jack was still young but not too young to remember his father’s absence for what seemed like years. He could not remember what his father was like before his long business trip but he knew there was something about his father that set him apart from other men. He could see something in the eye’s of other people when they spoke with his father. The look was something of awe and respect but Little Jack could never figure out why. He called him ‘son’ and loved him, it was all Little Jack really wanted from his father.

From what he could tell, his mother was the same. Before Jack came home, Little Jack’s mother was a wreck. He could hear her in the bedroom late at night crying, but she never shed a tear in Little Jack’s presence. After his return, the only thing she ever asked Little Jack’s Father for were hugs and he gave those in abundance. He gave the best hugs…

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