May 22, 2013 — 8:07 AM
Location: Foster Residence, Small Town Suburbia
The morning sun was soft and lazy, brushing faint gold through the lace curtains. Birds chirped like they hadn't gotten the memo yet that something was about to break.
Leo Foster, age 11, sat at the breakfast table in his Spider-Man pajamas, legs swinging slightly off the chair. A bowl of cereal in front of him. Spoon untouched. Eyes still half-asleep, half-bored.
He looked up and asked the most innocent question in the world.
"Where is Tyler…?"
His voice was quiet, casual.
Because in his mind, Tyler was probably still asleep, or maybe outside doing something weird again—probably pretending to be a wizard.
Grandma Helen, standing near the stove with her robe on and tea steaming in her hands, glanced at the clock.
Then at Leo.
She smiled.
Tiredly.
"I don't know," she said, with a soft chuckle.
"Probably off with his friends. You know how he is."
Leo nodded.
