“Honey? Breakfast!” 

I hear my mother shouting up at me from the kitchen, and I rub my eyes, groaning. I look to the side at my clock. 

8am. 

If I still set my alarm every morning, it wouldn’t have even gone off yet. 

“What?” I croak, failing to muster the yell that I desired. 

“I made breakfast!” I still can’t understand how she hears even the quietest whispers from all the way down there. 

“Why?” I shout, my voice finally deciding to wake up along with the rest of me. I lift my blankets, sliding my feet into the slippers beside my bed and opening the curtains, immediately regretting that last choice. The morning sun blasts my eyeballs and I quickly turn away, blinking furiously and almost toppling over. 

“You still need breakfast, don’t you? Doesn’t matter what’s going on in the world.” 

“I guess?” I gather my bearings again, screwing my eyes shut and opening them wide, making sure I’ve turned away from the window before I do. I shuffle down the stairs, the distinct scent of fatty bacon and freshly scrambled eggs on toast wafting through the house. My mother stands at the stove, diligently cooking away, piling a plate high with pancakes while the two dishes of bacon and eggs sit idle on the dining table. 

“Sit, eat! It’s gonna get cold.” 

“This is…” I start, taking my seat and looking down at the plate. “It’s a lot.” 

“Is it?” She comes to the table with the pancake plate, setting it down in the middle with a small jug of syrup and some squares of butter. I give her a ‘don’t-play-dumb-with-me’ look. 

“Why do all this?” 

“I just thought, I haven’t cooked like this in a while. And when’s a better time than now?” 

“Right.” I look down at my plate. The steam has already stopped rising from the bacon and the eggs, and I can tell that the toast is getting soggy. I pick up my cutlery and go to slice a sliver of bacon off, but stop just above the food. I sit there for a moment before putting the silverware down. “Sorry Mom. I’m just… I’m not that hungry.” 

“You need to eat, Lorelei. Can’t go about your day on an empty stomach.” 

I shake my head. “I’ve been managing the last few days.” 

This time, it was her turn to give me a look. “It’s unhealthy not to eat anything.” 

I roll my eyes. “Does it matter anymore?” 

“Lorelei!” she gasps, and I just look at her, stone-faced. “What have I told you about speaking like that?” She puts a firm hand on my shoulder. “We have to eat, we have to maintain our routines, and we have to act like we’re going to be here tomorrow. That’s how we’ll survive, in the end.” 

I look up at her deadly serious expression, and then down at her full plate of cooling bacon and congealing eggs, at the stack of pancakes that could have fed a family of five. 

“Then why haven’t you eaten anything yet?” 

She blinks, the question hanging in the air between us for far too long. Her hand slips off my shoulder and she turns to stare at the feast as if it’s her first time seeing it. 

“Wanting to believe that everything will be normal eventually is better than just writing off the possibility entirely, Lorelei.” 

I let out a soft sigh, lifting my fork and prodding the food on my plate. “It’s not that easy, Mom. You know that too, clearly.” 

“I do,” she says after a small pause. “But we should at least try. Dad would have wanted us to. There’s still forty of us left, maybe this is the last day that someone dies. You never know.” 

Silence descends between us, and I can just barely hear the sound of someone outside, their footsteps bouncing off the pavement as they jog through the street. I scoop a measly amount of eggs onto my fork and put it in my mouth, swallowing without stopping to taste it. 

“I miss Dad.”