Her dad lay in bed during the middle of the day. He lay on his side, diagonally across the double mattress, blanket half covering him. The curtains were not closed properly. It smelled like a murdered prostitute was hidden under his bed.
"Fuck," he muttered. "I heard you alright."
She had rung twice and then opened the door herself. She still had a key.
With her coat on she was standing at the end of the bed. Her father turned onto his back so he could look at her.
"You look dreadful out," he said.
'You think so?'
"Yes, you've looked a lot better."

He sighed and slowly got out of bed. She expected that he would change clothes, but he did not. In his pyjamas, he went down the stairs in front of her. He made coffee and toppled down on the couch. She grabbed a chair, put her coat over the armrest.
"Haven't seen you in a while," he said.
"I was here only a month ago."
Her father coughed. She looked around.
"Are you going to say that I have to clean up that mess?"
"No." She looked at his nose hairs.
"Were you out of bed earlier this morning already?" She asked.
He rubbed his face. "Yes. For a bit. "

She wondered who besides her still thought of her father. It could not have been many. A pair of scissors lay open next to her feet. She picked it up, flipped it shut and placed it on the coffee table. He looked outside and then back at her.
"You look really bad," he said. She nodded.
He stood up and walked to the kitchen. Under the table she saw a newspaper. She pulled it towards her. It was over a week old. It had been scratched on with a blue pen. Her father came back with the coffee. She did not ask for milk and sugar, because she knew it was no use. He drank it black and expected the same from his guests. He sat back down on the couch, took a sip of coffee.

It was quiet for a while. She did not know where to begin.
"I should have a dog," he suddenly said.
She nodded. "That doesn't sounds like a bad idea. What kind of dog are you thinking about? "
'No idea.'
"A Boxer?
'Yes maybe. What do they look like again? "
She thought of a boxer and how she could best describe one. Her father had his eyes closed. He sighed.
"Jesus, I'm so tired."
She took a swig of her coffee. He opened his eyes again.
"You are probably leaving again?"
She did not respond right away. With her finger she went over the edge of the coffee mug. At two places, there was a bit chipped off. Her father kept looking at her.
"Yes, I think so," She said.
"Do you have a girlfriend?" He asked.
'No.'
"It is about time, isn't it. You need to put some effort in. "He yawned. She put the mug on the table and put on her coat.
"Are you going back to bed?" she asked.
"Yes."
"Well, until next time then."
He nodded, took a sip of his coffee. She opened the front door and stood very still for a moment. Her father looked outside.

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