It was breakfast. Gordon and Jillian always sat at a coffee bench in the kitchen and stared vacantly at their coffees until they woke up properly. It was a ritual. Occasionally something was said, such as “Did you see on TV where the president has done this or the vice-president has not done that?”
Today was different. Jillian had gone out and purchased a morning paper; something they never did. She sat looking not at her coffee but at the obituaries.
It had been two days now. She still couldn’t believe it.