You're only seven years old but the question has been inside of you for so long, and finally you decide to let it free. You wander out of the small apartment and down the stairs, going through the door with beads over it because you like the magical feeling they give. The store isn't busy, and your mother is seated behind the counter with a book.
You approach her hesitantly, and when she looks up her face breaks into a smile. "Sweetheart," she says, pulling you onto her lap and holding you close.
She gently pries the question out of you, but you stare at the ground when you ask it and the words come out fast. "Where's my Daddy, Mommy?"
The smile vanishes from her face and right away you feel bad, eyes filling with tears. She catches them before they fall, telling you that it's alright, you have every right to ask that question. She tells you that your Daddy loved you very much, and because he loved you he had to go away. Some people, she says, end up hurting the ones they care about no matter what they do; so the best thing they can do is stay away.
You believe it for the moment, and you wonder if your Daddy thinks about you, and what he did that made him have to leave.