Weird.
I eyed my parents around the dining table, pulling my damp hair into a loose bun as I sat on a chair. Mom was drinking coffee. Dad was staring sullenly at her as he stirred his own. But that wasn't what I found weird. That was usually how they were together.
What was weird was Mom waking me up at five in the morning.
What was weird was Dad waking up at five in the morning.
What was weird was the bag on the sofa in the living room.
What was weird was the absence of exuberant hugs from Dad and greetings from Mom.
But what was the weirdest of all was the missing chocolate cake on the table, candles on top, usually surrounded by presents.
With a mixture of suspicion and dread, I squinted my eyes at them, stabbing my pancakes with the fork. Mom had even insisted on making me wear
