4338.206 · July 25, 2018 AD
Everything Felt Off-Balance
The morning doesn't start — it lingers. Grandpa hasn't moved from his chair, Grandma forgot to fill the kettle, and the curtains are still drawn at nine o'clock. Rose watches her brother quietly pack a backpack he won't explain and her grandmother cancel a doctor who was supposed to make everything better. By nightfall, the only light in the house is a phone screen illuminating a face Rose barely recognises.
Rose spends a day suspended in a house that has gone quiet in all the wrong ways. Grandpa sits motionless in his chair, barely breathing, unreachable. Grandma moves through the rooms like someone performing a role she's forgotten the lines to — making tea no one drinks, pulling out a fourth mug from habit, her hands trembling through every familiar gesture. Mack packs a backpack with a torch, water, and muesli bars, and when Rose asks what for, he says he doesn't know. A knock at the door brings not the promised doctor but a friend with cinnamon scrolls and a warning about men with badges. Grandma locks both locks and cancels the appointment entirely. By nightfall, Rose wakes to find her grandmother sitting alone at the kitchen table, crying without sound, then turning off the lamp to sit in the dark.
