I go Downstairs

I grab my backpack and head downstairs.

I can smell the morning coffee as i approach the kitchen, my stomach starts roaring.
If I had a dog he would probably run away from me right now I think to myself as a small smile appears in my face.

As I arrive I start hearing the same old and boring comments i hear every single day...
My dad and my brother talking about sports. Its like there wasn't anything else to talk about.

"Hi!" I say as i proceed to take my seat at the table.
"Good Morning!" My dad corrects me.

He is forty-five years old, approximately 6'0 tall, short dark hair, brown eyes and average body type.
Despite his age he keeps himself relatively in shape. According to him that's because of his military training when he was young.

"Ok... Good Morning!" I salute once again as I grab a biscuit.

"... there's no way the Manchester City can beat the United this Sunday" my brother Tom says to my dad as he starts spurting the latest statistics about both teams.

I have learned to ignored him once he gets like that, he can go an on for hours without stopping.
He simply loves sports. And of course sports also consume him as he is part of the school football and soccer teams leaving him little (if any) free time.

The good side is that all that exercise did wonders to his body. He is 5'9, he has dark hair with light curls, black and large eyes , broad shoulders and ripped muscles.
This has led to more than a girl from school to want a date with him.

Even in the girls' bathroom there is a comment about him, but telling this to him would skyrocket his already high ego, and there's nothing worse than a nineteen years old brother with an elevated ego.

"Guys, you can talk about that later. Come on hurry up or you two will be late for school" My mother interrupts them.

She is probably the most 'normal' person in our family.
Before getting married she used to be a receptionist, then she met my father and got married.
Today she is merely a part time clerk at a local store, job she keeps to avoid the housewife tag.
I wonder if at her age i'm going to be like that.

I stand up and grab my backpack as I watch her cleaning the table.

Her hair is long and blonde, a bit darker than mine, she is approximately 5'7, blue eyes, white skin and a body more developed than mine that clearly doesn't reveal her thirty-eight years old.

Sometimes I get a little envious when I look myself in the mirror, especially in the morning.
I hate mornings.

"Its time to go, Lets go Danielle" Tells me my brother Tom.