A paperboy hurled a newspaper across the sidewalk and front yard, landing it squarely on every doorstep.
At the thud against her door, a well-cared-for yet age-spotted hand slipped through the gap, retrieved the paper, and carried it inside.
The door bolted shut. In the hushed, tidy room, leather shoes tapped across the floor. Their owner set the paper on the dining table, then calmly selected the hidden pencil from the holder. He studied its tip in the 7:55 a.m. light, decided it was dull, and inserted it into the electric sharpener.
With a perfect point restored, the old man flicked on the kitchen timer and began the daily crossword, filling every blank until no squares remained.
Letter by letter he wrote, crossing off each clue as he went. Slow but certain, his hand never hesitated.
His handwriting was not beautiful, only neat and unmistakable.
When every clue had been penciled through, the grandfather clock and the timer rang eight together.
Nothing extraordinary—except that, for the year and a half since he had moved in, he had done exactly this every single day.
Always the paper by 7:55, the pencil sharpened at 7:55, the puzzle finished as both clocks struck eight.
One slip, one broken link, and the ritual would collapse.
At that moment his toast popped. He buttered it, poured milk, and ate breakfast while reading the paper.
An entertainment headline caught his eye.
'demon child creel': Wunderkind Director Unveils New Epic, Mentors Under Legend David Cameron!
'What is Richard up to now?' Dr. Brennan muttered, folding the paper. He finished breakfast in three bites, wiped his mouth, and dialed. 'Owens, have you a moment?'
'No deal, kid!'
Robin crossed her arms, rejecting Erica's request to lead a pack of grade-school girls on a tasting raid.
'Oh, why refuse? Feedback makes you better—wasn't that why you started free samples?' Erica beamed.
Robin laughed. 'Who told you we're doing tastings?' Samples were for unknown brands; Heihe Tea was already famous across Indiana.
Erica's smile froze. She glanced at the ice-cream shop next door luring crowds with free bites. 'Every snack place on this street is sampling—why not you?'
'We don't need to. The best never have to prove themselves.' Robin arched a brow at the pint-sized schemer. Her brother Lucas was honest to a fault; Erica, rumor said, had an IQ of 130.
Erica turned serious. 'Why not join the herd? Look—your customers are drifting away.'
'Know why those shops run promos?' Robin asked.
Erica pondered. 'Why?'
'They want sales numbers to secure spots in the future Star-Court Mall,' Robin explained, grinning. 'Guess who Star-Court's majority shareholder is?'
'Damn it—Richard again!' Erica snarled. She'd heard the legends: Richard could slay monsters and whip up gourmet meals, a perfect man who also played capital like a piano. 'Why couldn't the universe delay him by ten-odd years?'
Elementary-school Erica declared she'd gladly raise him herself if only he were younger.
Balked of freebies, she ordered, 'One lemonade—and here's my coupon,' waving a green chit. Her entourage of freeloaders melted away.
'Pretty sure you used yours this month,' Robin said. Everyone received one monthly; Erica had already spent hers.
'My idiot brother's,' she scoffed.
Robin chuckled. 'You stole it?'
'Steal? I merely out-played him in D&D and won it fair—and three more besides.' She fanned the extra coupons.
Robin pictured Lucas and his friends crushed by a primary-school girl; biting back laughter, she headed into the back to make the lemonade.
'On your own today?' Erica asked.
'Joyce booked the afternoon off for her engagement party with Bob.'
Erica's eyes sparkled. 'Can't wait!' Free banquet food—she'd be there.
'Haven't seen Mike and the guys lately—know what they're up to with your brother?' Robin asked, amused. 'With their coupons hijacked, they're too broke for drinks.'
Erica sniffed. 'Overheard my dim brother and his pals playing soldier with walkie-talkies. Mike was all "Emergency—family meltdown, Mom likes someone else, send help!" Honestly, games can't mend marriages.'
Robin's smile faded. Erica was too young to grasp the gravity. She thought of Mrs. Wheeler—still lovely, devoted, yet trapped in domestic tangles.
Even if she did stray, who could blame her? Her husband was so useless Nancy and Mike could barely describe him despite seeing him daily.
Robin sighed. 'Let's hope those idiots don't make things worse.'