Carson sighed. “Look, I’m a grown-ass person. Just let me do this, alright?”
It could have been just another forgettable evening to John, until Carson suddenly insisted on washing his dishes today. For all the time Carson had been with them, he hadn’t even bothered offering to wash his own dishes until today.
“John, Carson,” Virgil interrupted. “Could I have a moment?”
“Yes?” John replied, out of natural concern for Virgil.
“Are any of you going to use the sink? I was about to wash my dishes…”
“Oh, sure. I can hel—”
“It’s alright. You’re pretty tired today, aren’t you?”
John had no words for a moment—how did Virgil figure that out?
“Get some rest, John.”
Knowing that Virgil might have been fed up with both of them, John swallowed his pride for this evening—just to maintain the same old peace in this household. “Sure.”
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As John remained in his room, writing things down in his planner—the words seemed to blur together, and he knew he only had to concentrate harder to see things properly. He got to get this planning done.
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Once he finished writing, all the exhaustion he hid earlier had caught up—as he collapsed on his desk. Today’s work seemed to be more draining than usual, to the point of Virgil noticing John’s fatigue behind his usual persona. But after all, it wasn’t the first time John had to work harder after a family business, and he’s bound to get used to it, eventually.
Now that his family came up to his mind, he was sure he was supposed to remember something important. But as he tried to dig through his memory, nothing came up to his mind—except for emptiness.
In the room’s silence, John dreaded this feeling of being too weak to even do anything. Tonight, he still had some books to catch up for his work, so he couldn’t just let exhaustion take him away right now. As he sank into the dreaded weariness, he remembered one thing: there’s always time for some tea, and maybe that could keep him awake for a while.
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As John drank his tea downstairs (once Carson and Virgil had already gone to sleep), he finally recalled something his family mentioned. Something, something about his old dreams. Despite finally having his mind cleared, John couldn’t remember what exactly it was—and he even felt some sort of hesitant thinking about his past, almost like a feeling of shame.
Before his mind could wander any further, the footsteps from upstairs stopped his thought.
It was Carson, who wandered around downstairs, lost in some world inside his mind. John knew Carson had a tendency to see this world as an adventure, but with how Carson seemed to be searching for something on the shelves—inside the living room, to the kitchen where he didn’t seem to notice John’s presence there.
What was Carson even looking for?