Deadline

Sunday came with a little chill in the air, signaling that Summer was already taking its exit. But all Veil could think about as she got ready to go to the hospital was the fact that her father had been there all through Summer, and time wasn’t on their side anymore.

As she prepared a breakfast basket, June walked into the kitchen in a pair of black tailored pants and a body suit and approached the coffee machine.

“The last time you were up this early, you followed me to work just because you wanted to see Anders, who, by the way, you had seen already at the club. So, what’s today’s own about?”

“Nothing that dramatic,” she replied, getting the coffee powder. Her father personally supplied their coffee from Brazil, and they had gotten so used to it that no other one tasted right.

Fortunately for Veil, the one at Kingston Groups was also sent in from Brazil.

“Your definition of drama supersedes mine,” Veil muttered, grabbing some bottles to fill them with freshly squeezed juice. Her fa