The television was off, the blanket was pulled over the large man snoring in the sagging chair, the lights had been shut off, but the curtains had been left open.  The early morning sunshine pushed between the two folds of fabric, flooding the room, and washing the man with golden light.  Grunting, the man squeezed his eyelids tighter and tossed the blanket off of his chest, trying to get rid of the heat that was pushing into him.  

Luke pressed a hand against his head, shading his eyes as he finally opened them, protecting them from the light.  He hadn't remembered falling asleep but it must have been before the second half of the football game, because he had no clue who had won.  He also didn't know where the blanket had come from; it looked like an extra one from the closet.  His head pounded in the sunlight as he thought of his stepson.

A clatter from the direction of the kitchen caused a rippling pain through Luke's skull and alerted him to Morgan's presence.  What was the damn kid doing in the kitchen at six in the morning?  He lurched to his feet and lumbered to the brightly lit kitchen, the sunlight framing him and throwing a long shadow across the linoleum floor.  Morgan looked up from the stove and squinted as the light reflected off of his glasses.

"Morning," the teen said softly, a forced smile on his face.  Why did the kid try so damn hard?  Luke could never understand people who pretended to like someone when they clearly didn't.  No matter what Luke did, the kid would mostly still be kind, like placing a blanket over Luke after he had passed out from too much booze or cooking breakfast and making coffee.

"G'morning," Luke replied, slumping into a chair at the round table.  A sharp throb beat steadily in his temple and he buried his face in large hands.  A mug of coffee was set in front of him and he heard sizzling from behind him.  The smell of bacon spread through the house, mixing with the sunlight.  He picked up the mug and inhaled the bitterness and the warmth of the coffee.  Was Morgan bitter?  Luke was bitter.  His existence was coffee.  Late nights driven by caffeine and liquor, bitter and dark, and mornings of more caffeine and sunlight contrasted in such a garish and ugly way.  No, Morgan wasn't bitter.  He wasn't coffee, he was sunlight; warm and bright.  He drank from the mug, wondering what sunlight would taste like.  The throbbing in his head began to ebb away the more he drank the coffee.  With the added breakfast of fried eggs, bacon, and toast, the pain disappeared.   He ate the yolk first, cutting it from the surrounding white and thought he tasted a hint of sunshine.

A thank you rose to his throat, but as the clouds in the sky shifted, covering the sun and darkening the house, he stifled it.  Morgan silently gathered the dirty dishes and placed them in the sink filled with soapy water anyways as Luke headed upstairs to take a shower and the sun remained behind the clouds for the rest of the day.