#Nikesh-Writes

 (Prompt; by Umezurike Nwaoma Thelma) My name is mark; it all started when dad lost his job. Up until that very day, he always wore a cheerful look. Working in one of the biggest bank organizations in New-Zealand had always been his dream. The story changed, as soon as he lost his job. Well after he had a frame-up which terminated his appointment as thé chief accountant; my dad never remained the same. Sitting at a place at home all day, he would drink and drink himself to stupor. Mum wasn’t even helping matters or I believed it to be so. Her job engagement as a medical doctor usually made her come home very late at night. Feeling so tired and worn out, she would shout and shout; “Frank do you want me to be a widow?!! She would begin, and then continue; “alcohol isn’t good for your health, how long will I keep saying this my love?!!” After some minutes of silent sobs, she would help my drunk dad to bed, have her bath, and then lie beside him till morning. It became a bitter but normal