~~~

CHASE STALKED TOWARDS the figure perched on the old wooden armchair. Once he got there, he shut off the window, leaving the room to remain illuminated with the small light coming from the lamp.

The man in his sixties staring out of the window which had been closed looked up at the replica of himself. His voice came out sad, tired, depressed even. “Chase,"

"Don,” Chase locked eyes with the man. "Your brother trained me to never allow the people under me to call me by my name. So, you’ll call me Don,” He turned his face away.

"I'm your father,” the man strained out. “I gave birth to...