Christopher V. Cohen

＂Leave it in the mailbox for me, will you? I’ll check it later!＂ I

grabbed the black tote bag, pulling it over my shoulder, and grabbing

my phone, heading downstairs. Dad was sitting in the living room on

the lounge chair, reading the paper. ＂Morning,＂ I mumbled, walking

past the living room and into the kitchen, grabbing a muffin and a

bottle of water, then heading to the medicine cabinet and grabbing

his morning pills.