“You’re lucky. Some parents would kill for a child this easy.” Mike smiled when expected. Kissed his daughter’s forehead. Told himself not to linger on how cool her skin felt. Carrie noticed things too, but she framed them differently. She always had.
“I know I keep asking if it’s a growth spurt,” she said one night, scrubbing a pan that was already clean, “but… this doesn’t feel normal anymore.” Mike nodded. “It’s not random,” he said. “It’s patterned.” Weekends felt different.