"But daaad! Do youhaveto go?"
"Yes son. I'm sorry, but the King has requested my service in battle once again." The tall strong man stood in stout contrast to the short, skinny boy standing beside him.
Ruffling the little boy's hair, he kissed him on the cheek. Then, grabbing his sheathed sword, he stood up and left.
Day after day, the same little boy came rushing downstairs to see if his father had returned. Days turned into weeks, and weeks turned into months. By the time months had turned into years, the little boy still hadn't given up hope. Every single day he stood there, waiting for his father's loving smile to greet him once again.
But it never did.
