Ryan
"Get up. We're going fishing today." I walk through the living room toward the front door.
"Fishing?" Ana asks, her forehead wrinkling. She makes no effort to move from her spot on the couch, curled up in a blanket reading a book.
"Fishing. Our rods are on the porch. Let's go."
"Why?"
"I'm making fish for dinner. Come on." I open the door.
"Do I have to come?" she asks, looking longingly back at her book.
"Do you want to stay here alone?" I ask.
She frowns. "Can I bring a book?"
"Fine."
She hops off the couch and disappears into the bedroom. I've continued to let her sleep in my bedroom. After sleeping on the couch for a month now, I've become accustomed to it. I've even found that I prefer it. Being only a few steps away from the porch when I wake up from a nightmare feelin
