You used to love when your dad read you bedtime stories Stories that sounded like experience, but couldn’t since they were so graphic and brutal. Stories where he was always the main character, always the one bashing heads and negotiating with foreign allies. You never believe the stories You were never taught to believe them. They were just things. Interesting, crazy beautiful, gruesome things. That’s what you told yourself until one night your father stopped reading your stories. He stopped reading them to you because those stories became real. And now you’re a part of them.