to the moon. /m.c./

e p i l o g u e 2

Michael sat at the breakfast table, a cup of coffee in his hand. The cup read, 'I hate mornings,' a simple, yet true testament to Michael.

"Morning, love," he said, standing up to give me a quick kiss on the lips.

"Good morning, Mikey." I began cutting up bananas into small pieces, and then I heard footsteps and a small voice.

"Mom? Daddy?"

I looked at Michael with a raised eyebrow, and Michael smirked. "He gets the early riser trait from you."

"Hey there, Storm!" I ran to pick up the three-year old. He rubbed at his eyes, yawning.

"I'm hungry."

I nodded and placed him down on Michael's lap, which he almost immediately crawled off of in order to show me his new dance. I chuckled and said, "I'm cutting you some bananas, and then Michael--I mean, daddy, will make some pancakes!"

Storm was too busy staring at Michael's leg to notice. "When I get old, am I going to be fuzzy?"

Michael nodded, patting the little boy's head. "Yes, you will."

Storm immediately burst into tears, throwing himself at Michael's chest. "This is the worst day ever!"

He sobbed for a few minutes, then swiftly pulled himself away and screamed, "FUCK!"

I spit out the Orange juice I had the intention of drinking, and laughed hysterically. "Storm! Don't say that! It's bad!"

Storm giggled. "But daddy says it all the fucking time!"

I reached across the table and gave Michael a small slap across the face.

"Hey! I didn't mean to, I'm punk rock!"

I sighed and took the bananas, putting them in front of Storm. "Eat your breakfast."

Storm placed himself right on Michael's lap, smiling as he ate the bananas.

"I like bananas," he mumbled, licking his lips.

In a few moments, Michael was off his chair, making pancakes for the family. Seconds after, a girl with auburn hair came tumbling down the stairs, giggling.

"There's our birthday girl!" I ran up to her and picked her up, kissing her on the head. "Storm! Say happy birthday to your sister!"

He sighed, rolling his deep blue eyes at the girl in front of him. "Morning, butt-face." I glared at him and then he groaned. "Happy birthday, Autumn."

She stuck her tongue out at him and then buried her face in the crook of my neck, yawning. Michael put down the first plate of pancakes and smiled at us. "Alright, kids, get eating."

I walked over to Michael, who was in the middle of flipping the pancakes, and kissed his cheek. "I love our family."

He smiled at me proudly. "I couldn't be happier."

Storm then came zipping in between us, pulling the hem of Michael's boxers upwards. "Whoa, Storm!" I shouted. "What are you doing?"

He pointed at Michael's left thigh. "What happened here?"

I looked down to where he was pointing and saw four small scars on his thigh.

"Uh, Josie, you can explain." Michael was fighting back laughter.

"Forks are dangerous," I told the two young kids, cracking up.