A fine ray of sunlight connects the shutter to the cabinet. You turn around, a little dust rises from your quilt and fluff. You pull your arm out of the warmth of the sheets to wake your phone. 9:28. They are all already downstairs, we can hear them chattering around breakfast. The smell of toast and the call of your bowl of Honey Pops motivates you to get up. Slippers, pee, down the stairs.
– ‘read
– Hi sweetie ! We didn't wait for you, you slept so well
– No problem, Moms
– Your bowl is out, you just have to serve yourself
– Thank you dad
– My bisooouuuuu
– Smoutch on Mila's forehead
You grab the packet of Honey Pops from the cupboard over the sink. You're not very tall for your 13th birthday, plus you're barely awake. In short, the package tumbles. The yellow balls prance on the kitchen tiles.
– Shit Alice! You can't pay attention!
– I didn't do it on purpose dad, sorry
– Calm down Antoine, it's okay. Alice, grab the shovel and the broom, I'll help you pick it up.
And indeed, in less than 2 minutes the Miel Pops case is closed. You sit in front of your father. Mila is next in her high chair. In a hurry, you swallow your breakfast in fourth gear. Zineb told you she would be waiting for you at 11 am outside the dance hall. I can tell you don't really want to talk to them these days. You might be afraid to disappoint your parents if you tell them you don't play Pokémon anymore. After all, they've scoured every store in the area and scoured the internet to find the latest game released and give it to you for Christmas. They already find that Mila is growing too fast, you are not going to add any more.
You finish your bowl. You finally emerge. You look at your mother in her pink pilou dressing gown full of pills and your father with his T-shirt all stretched out at the collar. The real, raw truth. White hair, dark circles and sagging cheek skin. Your father's sparse beard, his widening forehead, his receding hair and his stupid character.
That Sunday, like the Honey Pops that rolled under the sink, you felt your childhood, your love of Pokémon, your illusion of perfect parents scatter.