Family Talk
Getting home that December evening, the cold clung to me like a second skin. The wind outside rattled against the eaves, carrying with it the sharp bite of winter, the kind that stung cheeks and left breath hanging in pale clouds. As I stepped inside, the sudden warmth of the house wrapped around me, though the old timbers creaked and shifted as if the walls themselves were settling against the frost. I wasn’t surprised to see Kaden at the kitchen table. He sat in the glow of the overhead lamp, shoulders hunched, the faint steam from his untouched mug curling upward before fading into the still air. The silence was heavy, broken only by the occasional groan of the furnace and the soft tick of pipes adjusting to the cold. Setting my coat on its usual hook, I let the familiar ritual stea
- Writer
