Morning at the villa doesn’t start with light — it starts with noise. Dull, irritating sounds that leak into sleep. A door slams somewhere. Footsteps run across the floor. Someone’s voice is way too loud for this hour.

Greg and Keith are already awake, tearing through the house without any real sense of what time it is or why they should be quiet. Kate is curled up on the couch, wrapped in a blanket, half-asleep, staring blankly at her phone. The adults appear one by one — messy, unfocused, some silently pouring coffee, others holding their heads like they regret every decision from last night.

Lenny’s bedroom stays closed.

Inside, it’s dim. The curtains are still drawn, the air heavy and warm. Lenny doesn’t wake up all at once — his breathing shifts first, then he rolls over, tugs at the blanket, mutters something under his breath. He cracks his eyes open, immediately shuts them again, and turns onto his side, as if hoping this is all just a bad dream.

The noise outside doesn’t stop.

Slowly, Lenny sits up, bracing himself on the bed. He stays like that for a few seconds, not moving. Beside him, his wife is still asleep. He looks at her, then toward the door again, like he’s weighing whether getting up is even worth it today.

He exhales heavily, runs a hand over his face, and says quietly:

“If I get up now, they’re gonna eat me alive.”