The second morning came without warning.
Law woke to the sound of rain on the roof.
Real rain.
Not blood.
Not memories.
Just water.
He lay there listening.
The rhythm was wrong.
Too soft.
Too random.
No countdown.
No heartbeat of a dying city.
Just rain.
He sat up.
The room was the same.
Wood beams.
Sunlight through curtains that weren't there yesterday.
A dog snoring at the foot of the bed.
Nysera's dog.
It opened one eye, thumped its tail once, and went back to sleep.
Law stood.
His body felt… light.
Like he had forgotten how to carry weight.
He walked to the window.
Outside, the little girl was in the yard again.
Drawing the sky.
But this time she had company.
Laura was sitting cross-legged beside her, teaching her how to shade clouds.
Liora was on the porch swing, reading a book that had no mirrors in it.
Nysera was throwing a stick for the dog.
Zero was on the roof, fixing a loose shingle with tools he must have found somewhere.
They all looked up when Law appeared in the window.
Laura waved the crayon.
"Morning, sleepy."
Law waved back.
His hand didn't shake.
He went downstairs.
The kitchen smelled like coffee and burnt toast.
Zero's doing.
Liora looked up from her book.
"You snore," she said.
"I do not."
"You do," Laura called from outside.
"Like a bear with asthma."
Law poured coffee.
Black.
No sugar.
It tasted like nothing.
And everything.
He took it outside.
Sat on the porch steps.
The little girl looked up from her drawing.
She had added six people now.
Five grown-ups.
One dog.
And a sun with a speech bubble.
It said:
TODAY IS OURS
Law sipped his coffee.
The rain had stopped.
The sky was blue.
Clouds drifted.
Ordinary clouds.
No eyes.
No cracks.
No watchers.
Just clouds.
Laura sat beside him.
Bumped his shoulder.
"So," she said.
"What do we do on the second morning?"
Law looked at the drawing.
At the dog chasing its tail.
At Liora reading.
At Nysera laughing.
At Zero swearing at a hammer that had just hit his thumb.
He looked at the sky.
And for the first time in his life,
he had no answer.
Because he didn't need one.
He smiled.
It was small.
It was real.
It was enough.
"Whatever we want," he said.
Laura leaned her head on his shoulder.
Liora came over and sat on his other side.
Nysera and the dog piled on.
Zero jumped down from the roof and joined the pile.
Five people.
One dog.
One ordinary morning.
The little girl finished her drawing.
Held it up.
Waved.
Law waved back.
The crayon sun smiled wider.
The sky stayed blue.
The world stayed quiet.
And for the second morning in a row,
no one was watching.
But everyone was home.