"Basic Instinct, Intellect And Too Swiftly" (a Flash Fiction freestyle piece, 434 words)

"Daddy...why do you always tell me 'I love you'?" Her smile was genuine and bright; like her eyes, which held so much gumption and naiveté at once.

"Because, sweetheart, I do." 32

"And you're my best and favorite daddy...ever!" Her hands were up by her face, and her chunky, little digits wiggled as if she were trying to avoid arthritis. "Why do you make me so happy, daddy?" 37

"That's a question that you have to answer, mama. I'm just a daddy. Instinct, I suppose."

"What's instinct?" Her eyes grew wide like they always did when she was exposed to a new word. She would use it later, and correctly, when we spoke about her riding her bike, and her hands instinctively keeping her beautiful face from a crash to the late summer asphalt. 65

"A natural...thing, baby. Innately within. It's just...

"But what's innate?"

"It means it's already with you. Like how you love me, I love you. My instinct, however, which is innate, kicks in when I... Kid, now you've got me all confused. I never graduated high school, and I'm not quite good at expressing these things." 56

"But you are, daddy. I heard you expressing how much you love her on the speakerphone. Don't tell mommy, but I don't think she…