Chapter 49: Mom Craves a Good Pounding Contd

The morning light was pale and flat through the kitchen window, painting everything in a cool, indifferent hue. Linda stood barefoot in front of the stove, the hem of her oversized t-shirt hanging halfway down her thighs. It was Mark's old college tee -- faded navy cotton with cracked white lettering across the chest. She hadn't bothered with a bra. She rarely did these days.

The coffee hissed into the pot. The eggs were rubbery. No one spoke much.

Mark sat at the kitchen table in his usual place, hunched slightly forward over a bowl of cereal, glasses sliding down his nose. He looked tired, but not unpleasant. Just... elsewhere. The television played softly in the background - local news, sports scores, a weather segment nobody listened to.

Their youngest was still chewing loudly. The oldest had already bolted with a Pop-Tart. The dog snored on the rug.

Linda turned off the burner and pushed the eggs onto a plate for herself, not really hungry. Her thighs rubbed softly as she moved.