Chapter 216 Mfxd 8

• 8
• Daniel.
• I woke up pretending the day could be normal. Normal meant coffee at six, a list in my head before my feet hit the floor, the dock rope checked, the hinge on the porch door fixed, eggs at eight, the three of us moving around each other like a polite machine. Normal was predictable, and predictable was safe. But the thing about rhythm is that once you’ve felt a different beat, your hands start tapping it on the table whether you mean to or not.