Sylus woke with a start. Typical of a falling dream. That was the norm these days. Always feeling like he was falling. Failing, even… At least he had the unconditional support of his… family? –Who is my family?- So even if this mayor thing failed, he’d still have them at the end of the day.
He sat up with a groan as his wife appeared in the doorway.
“20 minute warning!” with that she was gone.
Sylus grumbled as he gathered his clothes. Once more, he found himself distracted by his neighbour watering his lawn. Filled with a want and a need… Unholy and unnatural. He fought hard not to call out to Mr. Jeron in his garden. Instead, he made his way to the bathroom with a grumble.
“‘Morning, Dad,” his son grinned as he exited the bathroom.
“‘Morning, Son,” Sylus grinned in return, musing his son’s hair.
“Dad! I just got that… Ugh…”
“Vinnie?” his mother called from the kitchen, “Come help me get all these pancakes into their tins, would you?”
“Coming, Mom!” he tried desperately to flatten his now ragged hair as he headed for the kitchen.
“Kids these days,” Sylus laughed to himself.
After a quick shower and a bit of a shave, Sylus joined his family at the front of the house.
“Do we have everything?” he groaned a bit as he lifted all the cake tins of pancake into his arms.
Izzy thought a moment, “Oh! The preserves! You two head out, I’ll be right there…”
With a sigh, Sylus and Vincent went to the car. It was an average vehicle. Probably too shabby for someone like the mayor to be driving, but before last week, he hadn’t been the mayor.
Vincent helped him stack the tins next to him on the back seat. Once everything was secured, Sylus moved into the driver’s seat and waited for his wife to join them.
It took her quite a bit to finally make it to the car. A scowl across her face.
“Sylus Synclaire did you eat my preserves?!” she practically screamed at him.
Sylus thought a moment. He honestly couldn’t remember, but he knew it was well within his realm of likely behavior to eat whatever he could get his hands on, so with a shrug, he replied with a guttural, “Maybe?”
“Dammit, Sylus! I make those specifically for Sundays! How could you be… Ugh, nevermind.” With a huff, she got into the car.
On the way into church, Sylus caught site of Jeron again. If it weren’t for the tins in his arms, he would have wrapped them around the man. Good thing his wife made so many damn pancakes.
“Beatiful day, huh, Jeron?” he grinned at his neighbour.
“Huh? Oh, yes. Perfect, isn’t it?” Jeron replied with a nod.
“Absolutely! See you after mass?”
Jeron laughed, “Not this weekend. I decided to go with Gloria to her family’s place for dinner.”
Sylus fought the frown that was coming with the feeling of something dropping inside of him.
“Next weekend,” he forced a grin instead.
“Next weekend,” Jeron replied with a nod and a smile.
Sylus didn’t pay any attention to the mass. He had no desire to be there. Unrest was welling in his limbs. The desire to get up and walk out of this wooden oven was nearly overwhelming. Luckily, while the pastor had a commanding voice, he liked hearing himself talk a bit too much and droned on and on for long enough that Sylus was able to take a brief nap in hopes of clearing his thoughts.
“Sylus?” a familiar voice penetrated his dozing mind. “Sylus!” the pastor’s tone turned to one of panic, “Sylus, we don’t have much time! You have to wake up! I-I’m losing you!”
“Mmm… Qai… tax…”
Oh for the love of…