The Oldest Dream of Eternal Night

When I finally got home, the house was empty, as expected. My uncle and aunt worked at a private clinic in town and never returned before eight o'clock. It was barely five.

I headed straight to the kitchen to see if there was anything I could snack on. Maybe I'd cook something if I found the right ingredients.

But as I entered the living room, I saw a figure slumped on the couch.

Hannah.

She was there, legs tucked under her, a bag of chips in hand, eyes glued to a documentary.

I frowned.

"How'd you get in?"

Without looking away from the screen, she raised a casual hand and replied:

"I made a spare key."

I sighed, running a hand over my face.

"And here I thought I still had some semblance of privacy..."