Ellie Harper is already awake when her dad, Dan, finds her.
She’s sitting on the kitchen counter, legs swinging, one sock pink and the other green like she dressed in the dark and decided not to fix it.
The early morning light spills in through the window behind her, catching in her hair and making it look as if she is bathed in a halo of golden light.
Moss sits beside her.
Propped upright.
Like he belongs there.
She’s holding a half-melted strawberry popsicle in one hand, trying very carefully to eat it before it drips down her wrist.
There’s already a sticky trail along her fingers.
“Hey,” Dan says, leaning against the doorframe. “That’s breakfast now?”
She squeaks in surprise and pitches forward, just unbalanced enough to fall.
Dan rushes forward, catching her before she hits the ground.
The popsicle doesn’t survive.
The pink treat smashes against his shirt, the cold seeping through the fabric and raising goosebumps along his arms.
He sets Ellie back on her feet, grabbing paper towels and trying to wipe the sticky mess from his shirt.
He gives up halfway through, pulls it off, and drops it into the washer before returning to clean her hands.
Ellie looks at him with a completely unbothered, deadpan expression.
“It’s fruit,” she says easily.
“Mommy always said it was fruit.”
Dan stills.
Just for a second.
Not long enough for her to notice.
But long enough that something tightens behind his ribs.
“That is not fruit,” he says finally.
“It used to be.”
He huffs a quiet laugh, a little quieter than before, and tosses the paper towels away.
“Moss wanted one,” she adds.
Dan looks at the dragon. “Moss doesn’t get one.”
“He said he did.”
“Is that so?”
“Yes.”
“He’s lying.”
Ellie considers that seriously, then looks down at the dragon, narrowing her eyes slightly.
“Are you lying?”
Moss, unsurprisingly, stays quiet.
She nods once.
“He’s not,” she says with surprising conviction.
“Of course he’s not.”
Dan shakes his head, but there’s no real frustration in it—just something softer.
Familiar.
He pulls down a box of Lucky Charms, pours her a bowl, and fills it with milk, gesturing for her to sit and eat.
She does so without argument.
“I’m gonna go get dressed,” he says.
“Eat, then get ready for school, okay, Bug?”
He kisses the top of her head and heads down the hall.
By the time he comes back, she’s almost done.
She looks up with a hopeful expression.
“Can we go to the lake this summer?”
The question comes out of nowhere.
“When it gets warm,” she adds. “Not when it’s too hot. Just… warm.”
Dan pauses.
Then softens.
“Yeah. We can do that.”
She nods, satisfied, rinses her bowl, and bounds off to get dressed with a smile on her face.
It’s a small thing.
An easy promise.
The kind you don’t think twice about keeping.
Later, after school, Ellie is lying on the living room floor, a pencil clutched in her hand, Moss tucked under her arm as she draws on a piece of notebook paper.
Dan watches her from the doorway.
She’s quiet when she draws.
Focused.
Like she’s trying to get something exactly right.
“What are you working on?” he asks.
“I’m drawing a shark,” she says.
“We were learning about them in class today. Did you know some of them can’t stop swimming? If they do, they can’t breathe?”
“That sounds exhausting.”
She shrugs.
“Yeah… but they don’t know anything else.”
Dan pauses, sitting with that for a moment.
“That’s very interesting. Dinner will be ready soon—go wash up, Bug.”
She doesn’t argue.
Just gets up and heads to the bathroom.
Dinner is simple.
Spaghetti, garlic bread, and a salad Ellie mostly ignores.
She talks the whole time.
“Some sharks can glow in the dark.”
“Is that so?” Dan asks.
“Yeah, and my teacher said they don’t have bones—they’re made of cartilage.”
She stumbles slightly over the word, which he finds endearing.
“You’re supposed to twirl it,” he says.
“I am,” Ellie insists, lifting a forkful that absolutely is not twirled.
He laughs softly and shows her how.
She smiles up at him, sauce smeared on her cheek.
He wipes it away.
“What else did you learn?”
“Well, Ms. Parker said they can smell blood from really far away.”
She pauses, then brightens.
“Oh! I almost forgot—there’s a field trip to the aquarium. My permission slip is in my backpack. It costs twenty dollars, and they give us lunch. You just have to sign it, please, Daddy?”
Dan chuckles.
“Of course, Bug. I’ll sign it.”
She sighs happily.
“Can I have a strawberry popsicle?”
“Only if you finish your actual food first.”
She digs in.
The room falls quiet—not uncomfortable, just the kind of silence where everyone is enjoying being there.
After dinner, they clean up together.
He hands her the popsicle.
She smiles wide.
Later, Dan picks up her drawings.
The shark is on top.
Half-finished.
Normal.
The next one—
isn’t.
At first glance, it looks like nothing.
Just circles. Loops. Lines crossing over each other.
But something about it—
doesn’t sit right.
The circles aren’t quite round.
The lines meet at angles that feel… off.
He blinks.
Looks away.
Looks back.
Still wrong.
Ellie steps out of the bathroom, pausing when she sees him holding the papers.
“How long have you been working on these?” Dan asks, his voice unsteady.
She shrugs.
“I don’t know.”
That answer bothers him more than it should.
He’s not sure why.
She hugs him goodnight, grabs Moss, and heads to bed.
That night, sleep doesn’t come easily.
A few days later, the drawings are spread across the table.
More of them.
Like they’ve been waiting.
Ellie sits in her chair, coloring one with a green marker.
Moss rests in her lap.
“Hey,” Dan says slowly. “What’s all this?”
She glances up.
“Nothing.”
“It doesn’t look like nothing.”
She pauses.
Then goes back to coloring.
“It’s just what it sounds like.”
Something tightens in his chest.
“What sounds like?”
She doesn’t hesitate.
“The humming.”
Yes you have my attention! 😁
Oooooh I’m intrigued