The house smelled faintly of tuna and boiled pasta, as the lingering scent of mayonnaise clung in the air.
Dinner had been nothing spectacular…just a cold pasta salad bulked out with canned fish, peas, and celery…but after a day of little movement, even something simple filled the hollow ache of their stomachs. They sat scattered in the living room afterward, mugs of coffee and tea in their hands, as the flicker of the television giving the space a warmth the lamps didn't provide.
The screen showed a cooking show none of them had ever heard of before. A woman with a shrill voice whipped egg whites while a man narrated about the importance of "soft peaks." Elias sat slouched in the corner of the couch, stirring honey into his tea without looking at it. Lachlan had one leg thrown over the armrest of a chair, grinning faintly at nothing, his mug was balanced on his knee.
