El sat at the kitchen table holding her head, grimacing. The pinkish orange morning sun lit up the delicious waffle Jim had prepared. She took a bite of the Eggo. She drank some juice and swallowed her pain pills.

"Does your head hurt a lot?" Jim asked.

"Bad," she said.

"You look like you're suffering."

"Just pain…not suffering."

"Good," he said while making himself a waffle. Mike came over to her and rubbed her back a little. She smiled.

El quietly ate waffles with Jim. When El was done, Mike helped El remove the bandage. The wound was an ugly bruise on her head and neck.

"You know what I like about my friends? My family?" she asked Mike. Jim looked over his cup of his coffee.

"We, um, look after you?"

"Yes. And you like me as I am, weird and all."

"Of course we do, weirdo from Maple Street," said Mike.

"We don't like you," Jim said, "We love you…and just as you are. And you're not weird."

Mike was rubbing her shoulder. El grabbed Mike's hand on her shoulder, and Jim's on the table. She looked at both of them, individually.

"I couldn't have been more lucky," El said. "Papa made me to be what he wanted. But now I can be me. It's something I can't repay."

"You don't owe us anything," Jim said.

"I'm worried about something. It's important."

"Shoot," said Jim.

"I have been noticing my powers have been getting stronger, and changing. I also feel afraid of them."

"Why afraid?" asked Mike.

El rubbed her head. She set down her fork.

"Don't know that I can control them. I feel like I might be dangerous. I might hurt you."

Jim nodded.

"Now this is something I can understand," said Jim.

Joyce came into the kitchen and poured herself some coffee, then sat down with them.

Jim sipped his coffee.

"Do you know what coffee grounds are?" he asked.

"What?" Mike asked.

"The glitter of the working class man."

"Because they get everywhere?" replied Joyce and chuckled .

"You need to let go of what you can't control, like making coffee." Jim said. "You can clean up, the coffee grounds but no matter what you do, it's messy. You have to trust in the process and that over time good things will happen. Then clean up the mess after."

"Yes, I understand," El said.

"Jim, that was the most unusual analogy I've ever heard," said Joyce. "I think what he's saying is a better future is coming," Joyce said. "Even if it is full of strange an unusual analogies."

Jim smiled, "And you *are* strange and unusual…"

The morning light was peachy coming in through the windows. Oddly, it started turning reddish… until it was blood red.

Having finished her waffle, Eleven drank her juice and suddenly sat upright.

"I feel better," said El. "But…"

Will walked over to El, saying:

"Do you feel that?"

There was a jolt, the ground moved hard enough to slide the dishes back and forth.

"Earthquake again…" Mike said.

El stood up. She went to the front door. A dark and stormy morning sky, with the clouds rolling in as if they were crawling greeted her.

"It's starting" she said. "An attack."