What is this hand?

Is this really my father’s hand? If so, why is it on top of my head?

My mind isn’t working right, almost as if it’s broken.

It’s not just the unexpected situation; it’s also that I knew exactly what I did with my hands just now. The more I thought about it, the more my breathing grew irregular, and my head began to feel dizzy.

Just as I began to grasp reality, a cold weight settled in my chest.

Then, an answer came to mind.

My father spoke to me.

"I’ve thought long and hard, but …