You were the (amount of years) old child of Abraham White. You have just woken up on Thursday when you remember you have school. You run down the stairs, almost toppling over on of your sister— Emory—‘s toys. You make it to the kitchen however, to see you dad making breakfast.

He turns to look at you over his shoulder, nodding and smiling in greeting. You nod back, and sit down at the table. A few minutes later, you’re presented with breakfast. Your dad sits in front of you, sighing as he starts to work on his computer like he does every day.