‎"Why do I have to be the one carrying all these?" Lucas asked, his voice flat as he adjusted his grip.

‎Lucy didn't even look over, her eyes fixed on the street as she tracked their incoming Movz on her phone. "Because it’s your stuff."

‎"You’re the one who made me buy them today," he countered.

‎"What exactly did you expect to be using when the term starts? air?" She finally spared him a glance, her expression that perfect mix of older-sister authority and mild annoyance. "You’re just being lazy."

‎Lucas let out a small huff of white exhaust into the cold air. "We still have like two weeks, though. That’s fourteen days of no school. Buying them now just makes the time go faster."

‎"that doesn't make sense ," Lucy says, her boots tapping a rhythm on the sidewalk. "Better to have them sitting in your room than panicking the night before the term starts."

‎A sleek car with a Movz decal on the door pulled up to the curb, its heater clearly blasting based on the lack of frost on the windows. Lucas lugged the bags toward the trunk, his mind already drifting away from the school supplies and back toward the quiet of their neighborhood.

‎The ride back toward the residential core was quiet, the city’s bustle fading into the familiar, silence of their district. Here, the stone fences were low, the lawns were dormant but perfectly edged, and the atmosphere was as thick as the winter fog.

‎As the car rounded the corner toward their street, a massive moving truck—a heavy, professional model—was parked awkwardly near a house that had been empty for months. Its ramp was extended, a dark tongue licking the pavement, though the movers themselves were currently out of sight.

‎Lucas watched the truck through the window as they passed. a new arrival felt like a sudden shift in the atmosphere.

‎"New neighbors," Lucy noted, her interest fleeting as she gathered her bags. "Hopefully they aren't the loud type."

‎Lucas didn't respond. He was looking at the house. It was a sturdy place, framed by the same low stone walls as theirs, looking cold and indifferent in the late winter. 

‎"Well, considering they have a dog, that’ll be a little hard," Lucas remarked, his voice steady as the car came to a full stop.

‎Lucy paused with her hand on the door handle, her head snapping toward him. "A what?"

‎"A dog," Lucas repeated.

‎"No, I heard you," Lucy said, her tone sharpening with a hint of annoyance.

‎Lucas didn't miss a beat. "Then why did you ask?"

‎Lucy didn't respond with words. Instead, she turned fully in her seat and leveled a flat, unamused look at him—the kind of silent judgment that usually preceded a lecture on his attitude.

‎Lucas held her gaze for a second longer than necessary before finally letting out a short, dry breath and reaching for his bags. "Okay, I’m done with the jokes."

‎He stepped out of the car, the late January chill immediately biting at his neck. Across the low stone fence, the activity at the neighbor's house continued. There was no sign of the dog itself yet, but the presence of the crate was enough to break the usual quiet of the street.

‎As the Movz pulled away, leaving them standing in the silence of their own driveway, Lucas caught the faint, metallic clinking of a collar coming from somewhere inside the house.

‎"Help me with the rest of these," Lucy commanded, already heading for their front door. "If we're lucky, the dog is as quiet as the rest of this neighborhood."

‎Lucas shifted the weight of the bags again, his fingers feeling the strain of the heavy-duty paper and binding glue inside. "It's your stuff, though," he pointed out, a small smirk playing on his lips as he watched her struggle with her own share of the haul.

‎Lucy stopped walking and turned her head toward him, her breath hitching in the cold air. "I'm not in the mood for your antics, Lucas. Just get inside."

‎Lucas opened his mouth to deliver a quick follow-up, a rebuttal about who had actually picked out the excessive amount of emergency supplies, but he caught the specific expression she had. He glanced back at the moving truck, then at the heavy bags in his hands, and decided it wasn't worth the energy.

‎He closed his mouth, let out a quiet sigh that vanished instantly in the wind, and followed her up the steps. The humor of the moment wasn't enough to outweigh the bite of the January air or the looming reality of the school supplies waiting to be organized.

‎The heavy front door clicked shut, sealing out the January chill and replacing it with the familiar, dry warmth of the house. The sound of their boots on the entryway floor echoed through the hallway.

‎"Are you two back already?" their father’s voice called out from the living room, deep and steady.

‎"Yep," Lucy called back, dropping her bags with a heavy thud that signaled the end of her patience for the day.

‎Lucas set his own haul down more carefully, his eyes scanning the quiet main floor. "Where’s mom?"

‎"Outside," his dad answered, appearing in the doorway with a relaxed posture that contrasted with the kids' cold-weather hustle. "She’s over talking to the neighbors."

‎Lucas didn’t need a manual to know which neighbors he meant. The moving truck outside was the only thing worth a conversation in this district.

‎In the corner of the room, Anne was occupied—She was surrounded by a chaotic spread of toys, completely oblivious to the world around her

‎The kitchen was quiet, save for the low hum of the refrigerator and the muffled dialogue from Lucy’s movie. Lucas sat at the counter, one earphone pushed back as he tracked the movement in the hallway. When their mother finally stepped into the room, shaking the last of the January frost from her coat, the atmosphere shifted.

‎Lucas paused his video, the screen dimming as he turned toward her.

‎"How’d it go?" Lucy asked, not looking away from her movie but lowering the volume just enough to show she was listening.

‎Their mother exhaled a long, measured breath, a small smile playing on her lips. "It was great," she said, moving toward the kettle. "They’re very… unique."

‎Lucas’s eyes narrowed. He was used to his mother’s diplomatic way of speaking, but the hesitation before that word. "Why’d you say unique like that?"

‎She waved a hand dismissively, already reaching for a mug, effectively closing the topic before it could turn into a cross-examination. "It’s not important, Lucas." 

‎Some time later Lucas stood up, the legs of his stool scraping softly against the kitchen tile. He snapped his fingers twice, a sharp, rhythmic sound that cut through the low hum of Lucy’s movie.

‎Ivory, who had been sprawled across the cool marble of the counter like a patch of unsmelted snow, blinked his eyes open. The white cat stretched his paws forward, let out a silent yawn, and hopped down to the floor, padding obediently toward Lucas’s heels.

‎"Where are you going?" Lucy asked, her eyes still glued to her screen.

‎"Convenience store," Lucas replied, reaching for his coat.

‎Their mother watched the pair with a tilted head, looking more at the cat than her son. "Since when does he follow orders?" she noted, surprised. "He never listens to anyone."

‎Lucas zips up his jacket. "I taught him to respond. It makes me look cool."

‎Lucy let out a dry, reflexive snort. "Makes you look like a weirdo."

‎"Get back to your movie," Lucas countered, not even looking at her. "Nobody's talking to you."

‎He was halfway to the door when his mother’s voice stopped him. It wasn't a suggestion. "Take Anne with you. Let her pick something out."

‎Lucas paused, his hand on the doorframe. He looked down at Ivory, then back at the living room where Anne was currently immersed in her own world with a plastic dinosaur. A trip to the store was supposed to be a quick, low-effort escape to clear his head—and maybe catch a glimpse of the "unique" neighbors. Adding a three-year-old to the mix turned it into a mission.

‎"Fine," Lucas sighed, though he didn't put up a fight. "Anne, we're going for snacks."