Morning Decision
Morning came in softly, the way it always did in that house.
Light slipped through the tall windows, pale and clean, touching the edges of the dining room table before it reached anything else.
The scent of coffee arrived first—dark, bitter, grounding—followed by toasted bread and something buttery warming on the stove.
Ethan came down already dressed, hair still damp from the shower. Not rushing. Not lingering either.
He paused briefly at the doorway, like he was checking the temperature of the room before stepping in.
Richard was already there.
Newspaper folded beside his plate. Glasses on. Cufflinks still untouched on the table, waiting.
"Morning," Ethan said.
Richard looked up. Studied him for a beat longer than necessary.
"Morning."
Ethan took his seat across from him. Sarah was nowhere in sight—probably giving them space on purpose. She was good at that.
They ate in silence at first.
