Blue shadows stretched themselves across the kitchen. The sound of the waves crashing against the pilings outside was soothing. Grammy's house shoes slapped her heels as she made her way from her bedroom to the kitchen. Abby, who sat at the table braced herself. She liked silence, her grandmother liked noise. Her grandmother entered the kitchen. Her usual, "Good Morning" was not spoken. Absently she flipped on the kitchen radio. Classical music, noise to Abby, obliterated the peaceful music of the waves. Abby looked at her grandmother. Her eyes were tired and red rimmed. She asked, "Grammy are you okay?"
Without making eye contact Grammy nodded her head. "I’m fine. Just didn't sleep well." She cleared her throat and added in a strained voice, "You're daddy's coming home."
“Oh.” Abby frowned. This news was not good for her, but it should make Grammy happy. Only she wasn’t.