Sleeping in on the weekends was something you always looked foward to - & something your father always allowed. He never wanted anything to disturb the sleep you needed very much, as he remembered being a growing teenager.

Sunlight graced your face through your closed eyes, pouring through the window. Your clock read that it was well past noon & you woke up with no trouble. You went to the bathroom to wash up, before heading downstairs of the little house that you knew all your life as home. Your soft footsteps thumped down the carpet & patted into the living room.

Antoine heard you & turned his head from reading his book on the couch, the TV muted in the background. He smiled.

"Sleep well, hm? Pancakes are in the microwave for you."