2001, my dad is soaring at work. He stands in front of the mirror combing his hair, with his aviator sunglasses, a confident grin, and a narcissistic look. The pile of trash by him fell off. He stood straight, hinting me "Come clean this up", the same tone on his business calls. I hated those calls. Egoistically loud, but I had to be quiet. Otherwise, it'd be a malicious stare scaring me to tears again.