A storm of snow last night had created a thick white blanket over Brilliant Cove. The noise of a plow had woken me up, and I got out of bed.
On the way to the bathroom, I saw Dad’s door closed. I opened in and saw a lump on the bed. On the ground were a suitcase and coat, and I put them on his work table. He must’ve come home halfway through work.
As soon as I got downstairs, I switched on the news channel. Mom had always thought watching news in the morning was a good habit, and thanks to Nightingale, she would’ve been so proud of me now.
News had nothing special today, just the same old stuff I knew. I was afraid I’d never hear about the Project again. It might be the ultimate cause and solution for the city’s plight.
The bell rang, and I chugged whatever milk was leftover in my cup.
