It was a dark and stormy night that surrounded the red jacket. It was hanging on a white picket fence, blowing in the wind that tormented the area with a force. The child stared with her big blue eyes as her mood became as dark as the desolate sky that was starting to open out its clouds. Her mother had told her to run inside, and to hurry as this weather was particularly dangerous. She had said to drop everything and go. The child had done just that, and now she was missing her jacket. As the red yarn seemed to fall apart under the lightning, she could not even handle the pulse of regret. That was her jacket and it was hers only. Not the sky’s and she had to retrieve it. Her father had retrieved it for her at a store, this was just as simple. It was her final gift from her father, a week before the accident. The older brother does not call it an accident, as he says that Daddy ate a bullet, but the child did not understand. All she knew was that her favorite person on Earth was taken from her and so was her jacket. Sometimes she never even wore her jacket and just held it, like she used to hold her dad’s scratched hand. Both things gave her warmth when she needed it most. Then all of the sudden, a string of red yarn took itself off the fence and the sky started to clutch her jacket and bring it closer and closer to heaven. Then another string snapped off the fence. Now there was only one string until the jacket would be blown away. That could not happen. Going against all of the rules, the child ran out to grab her Dad’s final gift. And as her tiny white fist clutched the red fabric, a strong wind yanked it up. The blessing had been taken from her, and the pain would never stop. But as the baby girl cried her sobs were not heard over sounds of lightning. Because nothing else will ever compare to a little girl besides her Daddy and all she could ever want was for him to be with her, at the home with the white picket fence.