The next morning Micah woke up late. He blinked up at the ceiling, dazed. The sun had already climbed too high, filling his room with bright light. He groaned, rubbing his face with both hands. No wonder he felt groggy. He had stayed up way too late the night before chatting with the deformed car roof guy, Alex Ford. It wasn't anything deep. Just aimless texting. Nothing personal, nothing revealing. However, it made him forget about his troubles. Somehow hours passed and Micah didn't even realise.
Micah rolled out of bed with a sigh and walked downstairs in his slippers, rubbing his eyes.
The hum of chatters spread through the house.
Micah yawned and stepped into the dining room. "Morning," he said, pulling out a chair and sitting down.
"It's more noon than morning, sweetie," Elina said, looking at her son with a smile.
"Umm…" Micah hummed, reaching for the milk jug and pouring himself a glass.
