Annabelle
The morning light filters through the blinds as I prepare breakfast, my mind still caught in the memory of our slight make out session in the hallway. My lips tingle with the phantom pressure of Nolan's, and I have to force myself to focus on the pancake batter I'm stirring.
"Good morning, sweet girl," I call out as I hear Ashlynn's little feet padding down the hallway. Usually, she races in with a burst of energy that lights up the room, but today, she drags herself to the kitchen table, her stuffed bunny clutched tightly against her chest.
"Morning," she mumbles, her voice lacking its usual sunshine. I set down the bowl and cross over to her, crouching to eye level.
"What's the matter, honey? Didn't you sleep well?" I brush her curls away from her forehead, studying her face. Her cheeks aren't flushed, but her eyes seem duller than normal.
She shrugs, a gesture so unlike her that concern immediately flares in my chest. "My tummy feels funny."