(Author's Note: Still trying to see if I can bring a story to completion. Trying a different approach. The other branch seemed a bit too aggressive.)
Sydney heard the sound of the front door opening, but was too engrossed in her book to give it too much concern. She'd never given the books on the shelf much thought, but now...it seemed perfectly normal to be reading them, and she didn't even question it.
She was a bit surprised how many of them she'd gotten through by the time Jon returned. She could hear him scratching at the door.
She opened it, and looked down at him, looking cross. "I'm still mad at you," she said. Jon looked at her. He tried to remind himself that she wasn't responsible for any of this, but he was still angry. She looked back at him, closed the door behind him, and then returned to where she'd been curled up with a book. "Why didn't you ever tell me about these books?" She asked.
He made the vocal equivalent of a shrug and plopped down on the floor. He'd gone from denial, to anger, and moved into depression as he wondered whether or not he'd ever get out of this situation.
"Go, dogs, go," Sydney read. "Go on skates, or go by bike..." She actually read fairly well for someone who had just learned how, and her voice was soothing enough to relax the depressed Jon. He'd read this book many times when he was younger, probably why he'd kept it.
