“Dad,” I began hesitantly, “why did you give me this… soap?” I held up the offending bar as if it were evidence in a trial. My father glanced at it and then at me, his expression unreadable.

“What do you mean? It’s just soap,” he replied, but there was a slight tremor in his voice. My boyfriend stepped in, firmly explaining what it really was meant for. My father’s face fell, and suddenly, he looked much older.