C82 Washroom

Last night, Ezekiel had been waiting for me, but I fell asleep instead. He must be angry, I thought, as I stole glances at him. His face was stern, his movements deliberate as he sipped his coffee, seated across from me at the table.

I turned my gaze to Dad and Mom, who were busy eating breakfast, seemingly unaware of the tension.

Carefully, I extended my foot under the table