Tea with my father

"What would you like to drink?" This was like a dream. She hadn't spent time with her father since Haya had been born. She couldn't remember those times, just that she always hated Haya for taking it from her. It was all so weird. He had just shown up that morning, told Yoh-Oji that he taking her out for the afternoon and that was that.

"Hanabi?"

"Hm?" Her attention was brought back to the present.

"What would you like to drink?" He repeated patiently.

"Milk," she answered meekly. "Please," she added quickly after some forethought.

The display on the counter caught her eye. Within the crystal clear case, resting upon the counter, there was a wary of enormaous cookies of all types; sugar cookies, peanut butter, chocolate chip, oatmeal, macadonia nut, and others that Hanabi didn't know the name of. She lightly licked her lips as she imagined being back home before "the bad thing" happened.

Her father would bake the 'Famous Manson Recipe' cookies, that had been passed down to him from the dearly departed Grandma Manson; though, why he had been taught the recipe instead of Momma or Aunt Samantha, was unknown. But those cookies were the best she, in all 8 years of her life, had ever eaten. She would love coming home from school and feeling the warmth in the air from the oven. The smell of flour, sweet hand-churned butter, and cinnamon floating out the kitchen. The sound of her father quietly humming to himself as he carefully prepared the perfect batter.

She would peek into the kitchen to see if some of the cookies were already done and cooling. They always were. She would always try and take one without being notice, but she always was. He wouldn't ever turn around. He would just say casually, "Those are hot." Then, he'd turn around and hand her the mixing spoon covered with batter from the previous batch. She would graciously accept it and suck placidly on the bend of the spoon. The rich, sweet flavor rolled over her tongue and down her throat, overtaking the entirety of her mouth.

"Hanabi?"

"Huh?"

"Would you like a cookie?" He asked bemusedly.

"Ah," She looked back at the case, "Yes, please." She glared angrily at her shoes, an uncharacteristic blush formed over her nose. That was twice now that she spaced out. It was not like her to be flighty. Haya was flighty. She was focused and always aware of her surroundings.

She huffed angrily. There was a chuckle from above her. She looked up to see her father smiling down at her, as if he found her antics thus far to be amusing. He reached down and patted her endearingly on the head. "Don't worry about, Hanabi. It's adorable," he said comforting with laughter clear in his voice.

They walked over to a little table near the window. The table was too high and she sat in her chair, her nose just barely reached the surface. The man who worked there quickly brought over a booster seat. Hanabi blushed again at the prospect of having to use a booster seat at her age, but at least it was a cushion instead of one of those plastic seats which look like car seats to her. Her milk and cookies were set in front of her. She nipped softly on the cookie's edge to to see how hard it was. It was much too hard to eat without soaking it first. The glass was too narrow for her to dunk the cookie in. Careful to get crumbles everywhere, she broke the cookie in half. She plunged the cookie half into her milk, getting the tips of her fingers wet. She bit into her moistened cookie. She looked down and saw many crumbs all over her dress. With a few quiick swipes, she brushed the crumbs onto the floor. She suddenly became aware of someone staring at her, so she looked up.

All the while, he had stared long and hard at her. Finally, he spoke again. "Now, then. I want you to tell me about your life." He took a sip of his tea. "Try not to miss any details."

She fidgeted in her chair, trying to think of what she say. "Uh... Ok. Well, I was born in a town called Amity Park. But we moved when I was three to a place called Endsville..."