June’s Point of View
There was a tension in the air so thick it could’ve smothered the flame under the freshly scrambled eggs on the table.
The five of us sat around Dos’s dining table, a breakfast spread laid out in front of us—half mine, half brought by his parents. It should’ve been a comforting, homey scene. Warm food. A cozy apartment. Laughter. But instead, silence hummed in the space between bites, and I could feel every tick of the clock like a drumbeat against my ribs.
Dos’s mom kept casting me these quick, assessing glances, the kind that felt like X-rays, while his dad and younger brother Tres exchanged silent smirks with Dos like they were communicating through ESP. I sat there, back stiff, stomach in knots, painfully aware of the fact that my earlier outfit—his oversized sh
