You check IG for your dad

Over the next few days, you spent trying to follow the physical therapy regime as best you could, making sure to stretch and getting some exercise time in for your arms and your leg, though the doctor said that the leg would be in the cast for a good 3, maybe 4 months at this point. Not the best way you thought you'd be spending a good portion of your senior year in high school if you were honest. Plus, being a gimp made you realize something else: you didn't know why houses came with sharp corners.

"I suppose a round house might be a bit harder to clean," Randall called out over COD and you begrudgingly admitted his genius at the moment, though you were also ribbing him for being the whack-off byproduct from Captain Obvious. He merely laughed and blew you away, leaving you to watch the rest of the team get sniped.

After the fourth time your rusty skills cost you the match, you signed off before you picked up your phone and leaned back on the couch and pulled up your text messages. There were a few from your distant relatives who wanted to check in on you and the arrangements for your father's funeral, though you had signed off on his body being cremated and his ashes spread. You had also figured out, through some weird source, your dad's new email and twitter feed so you had sent him a few messages to see how things were going and whether she wanted to come to her own funeral. (You admitted to Louise that it was a bit morbid, when you thought about it. She just thought it was sweet.)

Nothing.

It was later on in the evening on the fifth day you were back home and you still had not managed to really move upstairs to your old room, though the first and only time you tried, you were flat on your ass in a world of spinning and dizziness. You hadn't gone into the master bedroom yet, feeling that it was still your dad's room and all of his stuff was still in there. In fact, you wondered in part what you would do with most of his stuff, not being anywhere near his size or sharing the same level of taste in clothes. Donating it might be a good idea, you could help outfit a small firm with the amount of business stuff he had in there.

A few moments later, you turned and opened Instagram and scrolled through the list of things that you missed until you noticed that there was a notice. A request to add of sorts.

From your dad.

You clicked and after appearing on the "Following" list, you opened the page and while there were only a few posts on there, there were some that were just added a few days ago. Most of it had blurbs in a strange language that took you all of 30 seconds to realize meant "Google Translate" becoming your go-to tool for her page.

"What the...?"

You scrolled to the oldest post first. "אימון לאישה"