CHAPTER ONE HUNDRED AND FIFTEEN
AUTHOR'S POV
"Mom!" Michael yelled in a shrill eight-year-old voice while descending the stairs. He didn't bother to watch or slow down his steps, for he had an urgent need.
"What is it, honey?" Mary called out from the kitchen, trying to fix up lunch for them to eat. She had just brought out the eggs and was about to break them.
"I'm hungry" He complained, while following the trail of her voice.
"I know. I'll soon be done with the meal. Why don't you wait at the table for me?" She yelled too, even though she could hear his footsteps, hinting that he was close enough to have heard her even if she had spoken softly.
He didn't give a reply but rather walked into the kitchen to stand with her.
"What are you preparing?" He strained his neck as he eyed the avocado on the table.
