#pops 2

There’s an easy grin in the wake of the wave and the smile given to him. Something more important than his father’s job. He’s not lying. Pops never missed a birthday. Not once in his Zach’s entire life. But missing this one, wouldn’t have been held against the other. Zach was a grown man, not a child. He got how life could get in the way of things. Like holidays, birthdays, other life events.

           “Thanks Po---”

The moment his father moves, his gaze is drawn to the barrel. One brow quirking up again. It’s...giant. And his mind is racing trying to work out what in the hell could even be in it. Since  clearly it isn’t liquor. Root beer maybe? It was his favorite pop but that seemed a little ridiculous. Then again ridiculous was sometimes something his parent was exceptional at.

            “Pops....what.....”

And he’s pulling his shirt on. Stepping out into the hall, Bozo following behind. Only to switch his path, and come to settle at Pops’ feet.  Zach wrapping his knuckles on the top of the barrel, curiously.  Giving it a nudge only to find it rather solid and rather heavy. If his building didn’t have an elevator he’d question how the hell his father even got it up here to the  twentieth floor. And when he speaks again, there’s an amused tone to his words. Leaning a bit on the edge of the barrel.