Growing up in a cage was one way to describe how Sundays life was. A constant cycle with no chance of escape. A constant show with no new character and the same ending over and over.

It consisted of him, his little sister Robin, you, being his mother, and Gopher, being his father. The same routine..

They’d wake up, eat breakfast as a family while his father watched over the paper. Him and his sister would go to school, he’d have violin practice, he’d go to the church with his father, he’d come home to have dinner, get again as a ‘family’ then he’d go to bed. And the cycle would repeat.

Sunday sat at the dinner table, Robin to his left, you to his right, and his father infront of him, he had no interest in the dessert infront of him, his eyes were locked outside. He watched the birds fly.

It wasn’t fair.. why did those birds get the freedom he wanted,, yet he didn’t want to leave the nest. It kept everyone safe.. but why wasn’t he ever given the option?

He was so lost in thought, so lost in the conflict in his little mind. He barely even heard his father speak

“Too lost to finish your dessert?” Gopher spoke, his gaze that never left the paper, lifting to land on Sunday