The fan whirred at constant speed. The little girl lifted up her wide brown eyes to look at a man sitting opposite her, pot-bellied with a grim expression and focused on the television set. The couch beneath her was getting warmer, the clock showed that it was almost time for bed and she was certain she could not sit still a moment longer. And so she did not for she got up from the black leather couch and went to her room as quick as her short little legs would allow her to. Having reached into her cupboard, she pulled out a thick, hard cover book that was as big as her torso and then headed back to the living room where he man was still intently watching his movie.

"Papa, tell me a story," she asked of him. The man's eyes had finally lifted itself from the screen and down to the little girl hugging the big book, palms just a little too small to fit its width. The corners of his mouth lifted and amused was he of his little girl, he carried her, sat her unto his lap and put his arms around her. He helped open the precious book that was in her hands and turned to a story that he knew she had heard before.

"One day, there was a man whose wife had died and left him a daughter. He had remarried a widow who had two daughters of her own," he read. The little girl listened intently in silence to his low yet clear voice as she read along the text in the book. True, she had heard this before. Who would not have heard of Cinderella? She love though to simply be with him. By the time the story ended she was feeling drowsy. The book closed and she was brought to her room. The little girl gave the man a hug and he kissed her goodnight right after tickling her with his prickly stubble by rubbing his chin against her cheek. She had always giggled whenever she felt that prickly yet ticklish sensation on her skin. "Goodnight, sweetheart."

The day ended just like that. She was happy it was so. Her father, the strong superhero of a man, was the man she loved very much and she felt safe and secure just knowing he was there.