Marcus stood at the kitchen counter of a small apartment two states away from where everything had started, pouring cereal into a bowl while Elena rushed around gathering her school things, backpack half-zipped, hair still messy from sleep.
"Dad, have you seen my history book?"
"Coffee table," Marcus said, not looking up. "Where it always is when you can't find it."
Elena grabbed the book, stuffing it into her bag with practiced efficiency. Six months of rebuilding had given both of them back something close to routine, though neither of them pretended it was quite the same routine from before.
"Priya's coming by after school," Elena said, checking the time on the kitchen clock. "She said she has news."
"What kind of news?"
"Didn't say. Just said it was important." Elena grabbed a pi
