John glanced at the clock. It was already past eight. He sat up. Cassie had snuck out sometime, he’d bet in the daylight hours. She probably thought he’d had no idea she’d been up here, as if he didn’t know the moment the woman came into a room.
John entered the kitchen. Cassie sat at the table drinking coffee wearing just what she’d slept in. He poured coffee into a cup.
It was weirder than usual. The house was silent except for the little bits of movements they made. There was no Tim bouncing around or his voice echoing off from somewhere in the house. Now, however it was Cassie and John sharing coffee in the morning.
“So how did you sleep?” he asked, once he found a donut to munch on and snared a chair, setting his coffee down.
“Fine,” she said, pretending to be scanning the paper.
