Mother sat at the breakfast table that morning with the calm of one who has accepted defeat and signed a surrender written on dry parchment curling with age. Father poured coffee for her, put cream and sugar in it and stirred. The spoon made delicate tink-tink sounds against the inside of the cup.
We spooned cold cereal into open mouths and wondered at the silence surrounding us. Father whispered and Mother smiled and we waited for the laughter that never came.