Sunday morning. The November sky is grey.
The house is quiet.
The boys play a new video game. Claire is feverish, falling asleep on the couch. It's naptime for Max. Troy and I retreat to our own corners, to nurse our coffees and our colds in front of our own screens.
Troy comments the house looks like a frathouse after the weekend. Someone needs to clean up this mess. We will take on that frathouse and this day. After these coffees.