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—& ❛CHAPTER TEN. i bet you look good on the dance floor ❜
It was Tuesday. And Tuesday mornings meant peace in the Rigby household. At least for the two grandparents sitting at the round table in the middle of their kitchen. The kitchen perhaps looked like a complete mess with splashes of blue and green and weird flowerily tiles on the walls, but it had a stunning view into the back garden through an opened window that laid above the sink. Pans and spatulas were hanging off the walls and various cups and mugs laid all around the cabinets. It was old and kind of worn out, but it was cosy and homey.
Paul's eyes were glued to the morning newspapers, occasionally taking a sip of his black coffee. When not taking short sips of her favourite tea or listening to the soothing tunes of the morning radio, Gabrielle would read the big titles on the front cover of his papers.
"The weather, aye?" she asked, holding the cup near her lips, smelling the sweet smell of camomile.
"Could be better," grumbled Paul, rattling with the stiff papers while flipping the pages.
Her shoulders shrugged, lips sipping on the warm liquid. The news broadcaster murmured on the old radio which had one too many times been poured over with water. His murmur was the thing filling in the silence the two elders enjoyed. Until a pair of stumping feet rushed down the nearby steps. A tiny chuckle formed in the corner of the grandmother's lips. Finally something interesting.
"Have you got any boots?" Bri peeked over the wall; hair a complete and utter mess as if she didn't own a single hairbrush.
"Boots? What do you need boots for?" Paul's deep voice muttered.
"Cause I'm going out, granddad," said Bri in a rush.
"Relax. The papers say it is not going to rain."
Shooting a look back, Gabrielle couldn't resist a grin on her wrinkled face. Bri's brows had shadowed her eyes, furrowing in confusion as her grandmother's head only nodded. She knew Paul too well.
