A/N: Response to the prompt "breakfast" in Facebook's "FFN Writers Unite" group.
The Morning After
After everything that had happened, Scott had felt he might sleep for a week. Instead, he was downstairs for breakfast as usual. As though nothing had happened, as though nothing had changed.
But by the third time his mom glanced at him and her heart skipped a beat – not seeing him – he knew something had.
Look at me! he wanted to yell. I'm right here. The wolf is part of me, but it's not all of me – I'm still your son.
That, or, Pass the milk.
In the end, in suffocating silence, he got up and got the milk himself.