After bringing the newly acquired luggage into the parlor, Heidi came to the dining table and stood there staring for a moment at Morris, who sat opposite her.
She had not seen her father for a very long time—though they had still kept in touch from time to time, even that sporadic contact seemed to have been ages ago.
His sudden return home felt a little unreal to her, like a dream.
Morris sat at the table, unhurriedly eating the sausages and bread he had just fried.
He chewed each bite slowly and deliberately.
After a while he looked up, taking in his wife at his side and his daughter across the table, a smile on his face. “I haven’t had home-cooked food in a long time.”
“There’s still food enough for later, but once we finish this meal we’ll have to go out again,” his wife said with a gentle smile, as if they were back in the old days, casually discussing an after-lunch walk in the park. “We’re headed to the nearest shelter to register—the district is getting less and less safe. Those dazed people… they’re becoming less and less like people.”