June 23, 2015 FICTION – The Fireflies When I get home from work I have a smile on that I don’t mean. My 3-year-old can’t tell the difference. He thinks I go to a fun place all day. I don’t want my kids to think my life is bad, to pity their father. I don’t want my kids to fear life. Posted by lynncinnamon & filed under Fiction, Life, Meaning, Memories, Short Story, Work. This post has 2 comments.