A-four, scattered on the floor

up so early, though the alarm is switched off. There is pain and discomfort, a continuation of the past week. Go back to bed, it will be necessary to make an appointment and to write an excuse for work.
Later on.

The son's alarm clocks sound, first the one and then the other.
Get up, a dressing gown today, and go into the kitchen.
There is the son making coffee, barely awake. He is turning into a typical teenager, still, he makes coffee for his mother, and today, an afterthought for his father.
The yellow light in the kitchen,
The same-coloured yellow light in the sitting room.
Then he starts to sort through his papers, the papers needed for school.
Then he sits down on the opposite side of the table, a small roll. he dunks it into his coffee and laughs.
Then he searches for a paper again, rapidly distraught.
Then he packs his back.

Tell him to tidy the papers, A-four, scattered on the floor.
He does.

Panic now, there is something missing, search the papers again.

Then the blame is there- had the papers left been disorderly scattered the missing one would have been found.

Puzzlement? It is hard to see the reasoning.

But then before the matter gets more complex
he is gone, school will not wait.
And his father is left with the cat and the stomach pain, gone now, but it will return.
survey the mess in the still-dark dusky room, still lit by the light from the street lamps outside the window.

Write the excuse for work, a visit to the doctor should not be postponed, hope that he has time before Christmas.