chapter 3 || greetings

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I laid in bed and began thinking about Life.

There wasn't much to complain about, I mean, I have a roof over head... A meal on the table. I have two parents, both who I love and love me. But the things that mattered most seemed to be the least of my worries—It was the little things, dumb things, that made me worried. And that scared me.

Fearful of where my thoughts may lead me, I decided to get out of bed and start with my day. It was only 8:30am.

After brushing my teeth and washing my face, I made my way downstairs.

The aroma that filled the air on the bottom floor struck me still as I came down. There was nothing. Instantly stepping into the kitchen, I noticed both my father and brother awake and eating nothing but some chocolate cereal from a box.

I furrowed my eyebrows.

"Morning."

"Bre! Hey." Dad smiled, pouring some more milk into his bowl.

Dylan was busy chewing but he signaled me a munching "Hey" before taking a drink from his glass of orange juice.

"Are you hungry?" Dad asked me, "I can pull out another plate if you'd—."

I quickly stopped him before he got the chance to stop out of his seat. Thanking him for the offer, I made my way in my fuzzy socks towards the coffee station right by the sink.

"Is there any expresso?" I asked, opening the cabinets to see if I found the materials necessary for what I suppose what going to be my breakfast.

"Probably not? Only your mother drinks that." Dad spoke, looking over his shoulder from the kitchen island he sat at with my brother. "You drink expresso?"

"Cuban Coffee, Dad." I replied, still opening the cabinets.

"Why is your mother giving you that? That's bad for you." He asked.

I only rolled my eyes, thankful a cabinet was right in between my face and his so he wouldn't notice. He shouldn't be telling me what's good for me after all these years of complete silence between us. Oh well, I wasn't going to start with that now..

"Mom always made us Cuban coffee." Dylan added, still munching on his cereal.

"You too?" Dad looked back at him.

"Found some!" I smiled, closing the cabinet door to pull out an old bag of Pilón coffee. It was a small red and yellow bag filled with expresso coffee grains. Just the smell of it alone reminded me of my mother.

Gosh did I miss her...

"Uh.. I don't think that's safe to make, Bre." Dylan looked back at me. "Check the expiration date."

I searched the box and sighed upon reading it. Scoffing, I walked over to dump it in the trash can. "Well that's no good."

"I'll go to the groceries and bring you some." My Dad offered.

"That's okay." I shook my head. He didn't have to spend his money on me. It's something I necessarily didn't grasp well to. Made me feel... Little.

Tides || jack gilinskyWhere stories live. Discover now