Next morning I’m up early. Making my way downstairs, I greet my dad who’s sitting at the head of the dining room table, reading the news on his Cradle device. Set before him are the remnants of a bacon and egg breakfast. The television is going in the living room. My smartphone in hand, I give him a kiss on the cheek.
“A pleasant good morning, Dad,” I say. Then, making my way into the kitchen where Mom is already pouring me a cup of coffee. “Morning, Mom.”
I take the coffee in hand and offer a quick peck on the cheek.
“Morning, Jacquie,” I say perhaps a little too loud.
“Good morning, Tanya,” Jacquie says from out of nowhere. “How did you sleep?”
“Like a baby on some killer drugs,” I say.
“That’s great,” Jacquie says. “I hope you have a satisfactory and worry-free day.”
“You know I
