Blue Day

I remember the day Daddy died. It was a blue day.
The fog outside that clung to the houses and trees was deep blue. I adjusted my swimming goggles as I pressed my face against the cold windowpane to look at the road below. The pane was frosted so I drew a smiley on it. Daddy was late. I knew this because Mommy had been trying to reach him on his cell phone for a long time. She was now pacing the room, I could hear the tap of her heels, a brisk staccato. Her voice had taken a sharp tone too. “Take off those stupid things and get off the chair. Go finish your homework.” I kept my nose pressed against the cold pane watching the building in front of me slowly disappear in blue fog. Her phone rang then. Her voice sounded agitated. I turned around when I heard something crash. Her phone lay shattered on the floor. Her face was blue like her dress and hair. The room was blue and the phone was blue. She was squatting on the floor gathering the pieces. “Mommy?”
For a moment she stilled and looked up at me. Blue tears ran down her cheeks.