Twenty-Eight

By the time Laurel came back with the food, David was already gone and her father lay almost gone on the bed. He smiled painfully when he saw her and she smiled back.

When she was trying to pick up the bed table on which she could place his food while he ate, he suddenly held her hand and this gesture made Laurel drop the table and stare at him closely. She noted that his hand was very cold and frail and was shaking profusely.

"What's wrong daddy?" She asked in alert. "Your hands are so cold."

"Don't worry about me, Tiger, I'm fine." Mark said with a stretched voice. "You know, when your mother was alive, she was everything..." He paused and cleared his throat.

Laurel just stared at him deeply, worried about his choice of conversation, she knew that ever since her mother died, this was the first time he had actually had any conversation regarding her with him. "Daddy..." She drawled but he raised his hand as a stop sign at her.