Michael walked up to his parents' master bedroom, planning to ask them where he could buy a gallon of petroleum oil. He needed a large quantity of it for his electricity project to succeed.
Knock knock!
Without waiting for a response, he excitedly pushed the door open. But when he walked in, he noticed that Bart and Lylia were in the middle of discussing something serious.
It seemed like this wasn't the right time to ask for a favor.
"Sorry," Michael said. "I should have waited."
Bart shook his head. "It's alright, son. Come on in. We were just about to call for you."
Michael hesitated, observing the serious look on their faces.
"Is something wrong?" he asked.
His mother patted the bed beside her, gesturing for him to sit. He complied, and she gently ran her fingers through her hair, just as she used to when he was younger.
"Michael, you know that you are about to turn ten, right?"
