Furry Humans | ✓

3.

↠C h a p t e r T h r e e↞
NEW SIBLING

❝Brother and sister, together as friends, ready to face whatever life sends.❞

♦ ° ♦ ° ♦

I was woken from slumber by the clinking of glass together, and shuffling of furniture on the lower level. Groaning at the thought of being woken up, I turn over, pressing a pillow to my ear as if to muffle the noise. When silence is heard, gradually, I drift back to sleep, internally trying to chase the dream I was pulled from when the sudden sound of glass shattering jolts me fully awake.

"Diana!" Dad's voice calls out.

Wide-eyed, I shoot up, the covers pooling in my lap. Quickly slipping out of bed at the thought of something happening to mom, I nearly trip over the sheets on my rush to the door, swinging it open not without snatching up my pants from last night and slipping them up my legs in haste. My feet pound down against each step, descending down the steps in quick movements, soon rounding the corner to the kitchen wall, not after hitting my big toe on the edge of the wall.

I yelp with pain, the sharp throb in my foot causes me to hobble forward to a nearby counter where boxes lay on top. Rubbing my toe, I lift my head to spot Mom bent down picking up shards of glass that belonged to a plate, I think, with oven mitts while Dad stood above her with a broom and dustpan in separate hands.

"What happened? Everyone okay?" I ask in one breath, looking over their bodies for any injuries.

Dad glances my way, a smile stretching across his lips.

"Everything's fine, your Mom was just being clumsy and dropped her favorite plate while unboxing," he chuckles, shifting his attention.

"Come on sweetie, get up, I'll get it. You shouldn't be bending down," he tells her, changing his hold of the broom to his other head while helping mom stand to her feet.

"My mother gave that to me," she croaked, sniffling as a tear slips down her cheek.

She wipes under her eyes with the mitts before taking them off, Dad taking over as he swept the remnants of the plate into the dustpan, the clinking of the fragments clanking together resonating. I perch myself on a stool that faced the island counter, one hand gripping the edge while inspecting it with my other; turning it over and pressing at the soreness. The skin had turned a dark red but other than that it wasn't bleeding.

"I can buy you another," proposed Dad.

"It won't be the same!"

Sitting up straight, I watch as Dad holds her by the top of her shoulders mirth glimmering in his eyes, staring down at her. They seem to be in their own bubble of life, staring deeply into each other's eyes, words spoken what the mouth hasn't said; when I begin to see them leaning in, I resemble the noise of gagging. At the noise, they turn their attention to me, looking as if they had forgotten I was in the same room as them.

Mom's face flushes red and Dad looks away not meeting my eye. I only blink repeatedly before I lean my cheek on my fist, my stomach grumbling, indicating its hunger.

"What's for breakfast?"

Dad's deep chuckle fills the kitchen while he walks over to the fridge grabbing the cereal from the top of it and the milk along with two bowls.