One Saturday, I was hosting our weekly game of D&D at our house. We were lounging in the living room after the game session when the doorbell rang.
Under the porch lamp I found my dad, who said he had stopped by to tell me one thing or another - the details were unimportant - and that was all. I thanked him and closed the door, returning to my friends.
“Who was that?” they asked, curious. None of them had ever met my dad before.
I told them who was at the door, and they sat momentarily quiet, pondering. “Where is he from?” they asked.
I took a swig of my soda and replied, unthinking, “Denver.”
I did not understand the silence that fell upon the room. “What?” I asked.
“That’s cold, dude. Your dad came all the way from Denver, you could have at least invited him inside.”
Ah, the confusion abated. “No- Denver, Pennsylvania. Near Reading.” This was only a 45 minute drive, and it was likely that my dad had other business in the area since he had not called before stopping with his news.
We continued with our talk of the evening regarding orcs and attacks of opportunity.
