My Cardboard Balcony

I wasn't sure if I was ever going to see my dad again, but six years later, he turned up. He parked by my house in a beat up green van, dressed in camo pants and a dirty T-shirt with the name of a band I didn't recognize. When he got to my porch, his eyes shot straight to the ground. I was sitting on a chair outside, reading a newspaper, while my cat slept in my lap.