He suddenly put out his cigarette on the plate, got up angrily, and stormed out of the dining room. He took his coat from the rack and left the house, slamming the door behind him. Her mother's tears were starting to flow down her cheeks when Dima got up from her place and ran to her coat, put it on and joined her father. "Daddy waited for me," she called to him from the top of the stairs. They walked silently under his large black umbrella while the rain was intense, her hand resting safely in his warm hand inside the pocket of his large gray coat. How she wished his pocket could hold all of it. After a while, I broke the silence and asked him in a worried voice: "Dad, do you want to leave us and return to Syria?"
"We will all get back together"
"And if my mother is not satisfied?"
A question he had been avoiding thinking about...