The book landed with a soft thump. Melody opened the cover, and a cloud of golden dust puffed into her face. She sneezed! A tiny sparkle danced in the sunbeam, then drifted away.
Melody found a faded photograph tucked inside the book. She traced the face with her fingertip, hoping to hear his laugh. But the picture stayed quiet. She stared and stared.
She flipped and flipped through the pages. Something slipped — a pressed flower landed softly on her knee. Purple and sweet. Melody picked it up. This, she thought, might be a memory she could hold.
Melody held the flower to her ear. She closed her eyes and listened. Only the clock ticked. She waited. Nothing came.
Melody tucked the flower behind her ear. She turned toward the empty chair across from her and smiled — just a little. The sun warmed her shoulders. She felt lighter.
Melody picked up the book and settled into the armchair. She opened to the first page and began to read. Her voice filled the quiet room.
She read the words aloud. "Once upon a time..." The room seemed to lean in. The sunlight turned gold around her. Melody kept reading, and her voice sounded like laughter.
Melody imagined him sitting there, listening. She told him about the dusty book and the golden sneeze. She told him about the flower and the quiet clock. He would have liked it.
Melody turned the pages slowly now. Each one held something — a pressed leaf, a dried berry, a scrap of paper with a drawing. She held them all up to the light.
The last page had a single sentence: "Read this to me, and I will always be here." Melody smiled. She touched the words gently, like a promise.
Melody closed the book softly and leaned her head back. The room was warm. The flower stayed in her hair. She thought of his laugh — and this time, it came back, clear as a bell.
Melody placed the book back on the shelf and walked to the empty chair. She sat down, folded her hands, and whispered, "Goodnight, Dad." The sunlight held her close. The clock kept ticking.