Your moleman father puts his book down and crawls up from his ancient stool. He puts his claws on your shoulders and looks you dead in the eyes.

“I know why you left home,” he sighs. “I pushed you away. Just like with your mother.” 

He bows his head for a moment, then looks up again.

“Would it be worth anything to you now if I said I was sorry?”

“More than all the gold in King Mongoose’s Enchanted Lair,” you tell him, a tear running down your beady eye. You hug.

“So, when are you moving back in?” he asks. Uh, maybe this talk went too well?

THE END