Noah

Thursday mornings were always chaos in the Lombardi house.

The smell of coffee hung in the air, mingling with the faint scent of burnt toast coming from the toaster. The TV in the corner of the kitchen was tuned to the local news, though no one was actually watching it. Jackson was half-dressed, running around trying to find his other cleat while their mom shouted reminders from down the hall about laundry and homework.

It was familiar.

Comfortable.

This kitchen had been like ...