The morning crept in gently, painting the windows with soft gold.
Billy stood in front of the mirror, adjusting the collar of his shirt—not fancy, just neat.
A light blue button-up and dark jeans. Clean. Presentable. His hair was still damp from the shower, curling at the ends.
Downstairs, the smell of coffee drifted up like a silent invitation.
He stepped into the kitchen, finding Mr. Dand already at the table, flipping through an old newspaper with one hand while the other nursed a mug.
"You're up early," Dand said without looking up.
"Didn't sleep much," Billy admitted, a crooked smile tugging at his lips.
"Excitement or nerves?"
"Feels like the first page of a new book—exciting, but you don't know if you'll like where it goes."
Dand folded the paper, finally giving him his full attention. "You going into town?"
