I rub my temple, then eat my dinner straight from the container, listening to Dr. Dahlia talk about migration patterns on the TV I haven’t turned off yet.
When my muscles start aching enough, I decide on a shower. I empty my pockets onto the counter, and the nickel from this morning lands with a soft clink against the marble.
I stare at it for a second, then pick it up and roll it between my fingers.
Lucky Penny.
It’s ridiculous how clearly her voice echoes in my mind, how vividly I remember the easy smile she gave as she talked about her dad.
Find my Penny, pick her up, all day long I’ll have good luck.
The corner of my mouth twitches despite myself. Then, with a quiet sigh, I set the coin back down, and I flick off the kitchen light.
***
Morning comes easier without my alarm dragging me out of sleep. I’m awake before it’d go off anyway, the habit stitched too deep in me to ignore.
Gus hears me move and scratches once at my closed door, then snuffles dramatically beneath it.
“Too early,” I mutter, but I get up and let him in anyway.
Unfortunately, he disagrees. And so does Elle, who appears ten minutes later in my doorway wearing a pink sparkly dress and princess shoes that definitely do not qualify as park attire.
“Morning, bug.”
“Hi, Daddy! Are we still taking Gus to the park today?”
“We are.”
“So I need to wear this.”
“You need to wear sneakers.”
She considers that for a moment. “The sneakers can go with this dress.”
I’m too tired to argue fashion logic with a five-year-old before coffee. “Fine. Sneakers with the sparkles.”
She grins like she’s won, then disappears down the hall. Gus bolts after her, probably thinking he can pick up any crumb of breakfast she drops on the floor.
Once breakfast is done and I’ve ingested the strongest coffee I can make, I pick up Gus’s leash. The second he hears it, his nails skid on the wood, and he rushes around in tight circles by the front door.
“Alright, you psychopath, let’s go.”
When we arrive, the air at the park bites a little. It’s early enough that the sun’s still low and throwing long shadows over the playground. Mulch crunches under my sneakers as Gus strains forward, already scanning for squirrels.
Elle makes a beeline for the swings, her dress flaring out around her knees and glitter catching the light.
“Five minutes,” I call after her.
“Ten!” she calls back.
“Five.”
She sighs dramatically as she pumps her legs to go higher. I watch her for a beat, until Gus suddenly tugs my arm by lunging left.
“Gus—”
It’s too late. He barrels forward, leash jerking hard enough to pull my shoulder. A jogger veers sideways just in time, breath fogging in the cold air as she laughs instead of shrieks.
