Wake up and start a new day

You wake up. The transition isn't gentle. It's a violent lurch, like being thrown from a moving train. Light, flat and gray, cuts through a gap in the curtains. Your head feels packed with wet cotton, your mouth tastes like old regrets and shame. So many dreams of cheating invading your mind.

Downstairs, the house is already awake. The scent of brewing coffee mixes with the sweeter smell of syrup. Jason is at the table, phone in one hand, a fork idly pushing at a mound of scrambled eggs. He looks up, a brief, unreadable glance, then back to his screen, probably texting his girlfriend.

"Morning," Ava says, her back to you as she flips a pancake on the griddle. She sounds tired, but there's a forced brightness to it, a shield. She turns, a spatula in her hand, and gives you a quick, perfunctory smile. "Coffee's ready." You knew it's probably about Kyler.

You pour a mug, the warmth a small comfort. You sit. You don't speak. You chew your pancakes and they taste like cardboard in your mouth. Every noise is an assault. The scrape of a fork. The steady, maddening tick-tock of the clock above the sink. You feel like an impostor in your own life, a ghost haunting this domestic scene. A pretty strong headache with those terrible dreams last night. You love your life with your family. Kyler, Jason, Elsa, and Ava are the perfect family for the perfect family man.

You look at Kyler. She picks at her food, moving a single blueberry around her plate with the tip of her finger. Her hair is pulled back in a messy bun, and there are dark circles under her eyes. She looks so much younger than twenty three, fragile and adrift. She catches you staring and flinches, looking down at her plate as if she's been caught in a crime. The memory of her before committing a crime. The flawless A plus student in high school. She was the debate team leader, but now she just a college drop out. You feel two different things for her. Hurt and sadness.

Jason shoves his chair back, the legs screeching against the floor. "I'm out," he mutters, grabbing his keys. "Practice."

The front door clicks shut. The silence that descends is heavier, denser. Kyler puts her fork down with a soft clink.

"Dad," she says, her voice small but clear. "Can we... can we talk when you're done eating? Just us."

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