Rhett
I woke up to the weight of something pressing down on my chest
I hadn't meant to sleep. I'd lain on top of the covers sometime before dawn, shoes still on, shirt unbuttoned. When I opened his eyes, light angled across the ceiling from the eastern windows, as though the morning itself had run out of colour.
A soft door sounded on my door before it slowly opened.
My father leaned in and called quietly. "Rhett?"
"Yeah." My throat was raw and scratchy. "Come in."
My father slipped inside with two steaming mugs in his hand. He set one mug on the nightstand and took the chair by the window, studying me like he always does.
We remained like that for a few minutes before he pointed to the steaming mugs.
"Black coffee," he said. "And… ginger tea. In case the coffee makes your stomach riot."
I reached for the tea, trying to control the tremors that shook my hand as I held the mug, but it only clinked against the ceramic saucer. If my father noticed, he didn't comment.
