The final beep of the checkout scanner felt like a starting pistol.
Ethan finished his shift at CostMart, a tired but satisfied smile on his face.
He had spent the last three days in a whirlwind of reality: helping his recovering mother, who was now awake and talking, albeit weakly; playing with Gaffer, the fluffy new center of the family's universe; and stacking an infinite number of soup cans under the grumpy but watchful eye of Mr. Henderson.
He had handed his earnings to his dad, a small but significant contribution that had earned him a proud clap on the back.
His two worlds, once in jarring conflict, were starting to find a strange, exhausting rhythm.
But today was different. Today was Saturday.
Today was matchday.
He practically flew home on his bike, the fatigue in his legs replaced by the familiar pre-match buzz. He gave his mom a gentle hug, checked that she was comfortable, and then made a beeline for his room.
