Micah tugged the last button of his polo shirt into place, smoothed down the front, and took a quick glance in the mirror. It wasn't something flashy. Just a neat, simple outfit that made him look put-together without trying too hard. Good enough. He ran a hand through his hair, exhaled, and hurried down the wide staircase again.
A faint rustle of paper reached his ears. In the living room, Jacob Ramsy sat with his legs crossed, half-hidden behind the morning newspaper. A steaming black coffee rested beside him. When he heard his son's steps, Jacob lowered the paper and looked over the rim of his glasses. "Are you going out?"
"Yeah," Micah replied, crouching by the shoe rack and tugging on a pair of sneakers. He tied the laces in quick knots. "My friend's mother is being discharged today. So, I am going to help."
Jacob's brows rose slightly. He folded the newspaper with a soft chuckle. "Oh, the top scorer?"
