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The Silence After the Knock
Marish
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Prompt
The Day He Stopped Knocking Every evening at exactly 7:15, Mr. Daramola would knock on his son’s door. “Dinner is ready,” he’d say gently. Inside, Tunde would respond the same way every time. “I’m coming.” But he never came. Headphones on. Phone in hand. Laughing at messages. Watching videos. Living in a world where his father didn’t exist. At first, Mr. Daramola waited. Then he started leaving the food by the door. After a while… he stopped knocking altogether. Days turned into weeks. Tunde didn’t notice. To him, it felt like freedom. No interruptions. No “old man” disturbing him. One
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Photographic
art, news, personal or emotional
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Ken
Hiro
