95_I Remember

Ava’s POV

The sun spilled in softly through the windows, golden and sleepy, warming the small living room with the quiet comfort of a weekend morning. I tugged Max’s tiny hoodie over his head and watched as he wriggled in protest, laughing.

“Too tight?” I asked, adjusting the hood and tickling under his chin.

“No,” he giggled. “But it smells like eggs.”

“That’s because someone wiped his hands on it yesterday after breakfast,” I said, narrowing my eyes ...