2
Lena.
The next morning, I woke up feeling smug. Maybe a little too smug, which is always a warning sign. The sun was barely up and Jack was already downstairs, coffee brewing, house too bright and too still, like even the dust was on best behavior. I tiptoed to the bathroom, half-expecting him to be waiting outside my door with a lecture, but the hallway was empty.
That didn’t last.
At breakfast, he sat across from me, military posture, coffee mug in hand. I ate cereal out of the box, feet propped on the table. He watched me with a stare I pretended to ignore.
“You’re supposed to use a bowl,” he said, not looking up from his phone.
I popped a cornflake into my mouth. “It’s just more dishes to wash. I’m saving water. Think of the planet.”
“Take your feet off the table.”
I wiggled
