"What about Mikey, dear?" Jon said. "He's still not up."
"Do you want to talk to Mom and Dad first, or bring him in first?" Zoe asked.
"You really want to try to explain this to Mikey?" he said.
"You're probably right," Zoe agreed. They headed downstairs.
A few moments earlier, their father headed down the stairs, still wearing the black nightgown and sat at the table. His wife, dressed in a wrinkled t-shirt and shorts, was half asleep.
Jon's mom was usually quite a morning person. But this morning, she sat at the tale with her eyes half closed as he sat opposite her. "Do you know what's going on?"
"Wha?"
"What's going on? Jon and Zoe called a family meeting. And...something is very fucked up this morning."
Her eyes opened a bit more. "What...what are you wearing?"
"Like you should talk. You look like a train wreck."
By the time, Jon and Zoe entered the kitchen, it had deteriorated from there. "Can you two get along for five minutes?" Zoe said, sternly.
