The clock struck 2:35 as my eyes opened. My daughter stood in my doorway.

"Daddy, I can't fall asleep. Can you warm me a glass of milk, please?"

I sighed as my foot produced a creak hitting the wooden floor. She tiptoed to the kitchen in an effort to not wake up my wife. I slipped my glasses on as I walked to the kitchen. The microwave began warming up the milk as I began to reminisce. How big she had gotten, after six long years of life. I remembered every second of it, from her first breath to that one fatal moment. The milk finished warming as her eyelids began to droop. I handed her the cup of milk and she drank it down with glee, developing a small milk mustache, smiling up at me with tired eyes.

"Thanks Daddy! I'll get to sleep in no time now!"

I gripped her little hand as I walked her back. I laid her down and planted a kiss on her forehead. I took one final look back as I began the journey back to my bed.

As I drifted off, I made a mental note to reinforce the concrete over the grave where she's buried.

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