Escape #4
Sunlight pours into the kitchen like honey and drips down the counter. You wipe the sleep out of your eyes as you slunk down the stairs. It’s early, the only others awake before you are the birds singing their morning tunes. The world feels clean, like it had been wiped down with a bottle of orange pine sol. You pull your favorite mug from the cabinet placing it on the counter next to the coffee machine. You push up on the counter, listening as the coffee machine gurgles. Your sibling steps off the landing and glides groggily in wrapped in a blanket. They slide into a chair at the table. The air smells like rich earthy coffee. You look up at them, they look at you. Neither of you speak.The silence is sweet, comfortable, a simple agreement.
Silence
I catch the pattern Of your silence Before you speak
I do not need To hear a word.
In your silence Every tone I seek Is heard.
- Langston Hughes
(cite where I got the poem from)
Inventory:
Your favorite mug
Vanilla creamer waiting in the fridge
A tube of unbaked cinnamon rolls
Your favorite hoodie covered in cat hair
Fuzzy socks



















