Languor clung like a thin, wet cloth.

Or maybe it pulled--dragged at him--urging him to relax. To crumble and rot away to bones.

Lisander wasn't certain how he resisted. His strength had run down to vapors and then to nothingness a long time ago. There were no hands to support him, or voices to cheer him onward.

So then, it was out of necessity. Yes. That sounded right.

He awoke in the mornings because he had to.

He awoke in the mornings because his little sister's hands tugged at the side of his bed, yanking away the blankets in a determined attempt to climb up. He awoke in the mornings because the air did not smell of sausage and bacon and eggs, and biscuits, pancakes, muffins, freshly-juiced oranges, and chilled maple syrup. He awoke in the mornings and accepted the baton because--well. . .who else was going to?

He was the breadwinner.

So why, then, were they still breadless?

Dreamlessness -worse than breadlessness, crept in from the other part of him rendering Lisander inept facing his woes, let alone tackling having an extra thought at her little sister’s escalating worries who carried yet another stomach that he had to ensure was well fed and nourished. He couldn’t feed himself, but that was the least of his worries. The crux of things was, at the maximum, to keep the little one comfortable by reassuring her that later would be better than now. There was nothing to make her happy and so, only hopes kept her anticipating anything basic.

When once Lisa and his sister Nevis could stretch out their hands, with their eyes closed, to reach out to a cupboard or dining table or a cookie jar and sample the plentiful options of food and drinks and treats they had access to all day all month and all year, they had no idea about what was awaiting them ahead and the complacence from a smooth living they were accustomed to didn’t at all prepare them for the day that they would instantaneously become victims of a circumstance that no one could easily help to reverse. They were on their own -at least for the foreseeable future. Windows of opportunity and doors of luck were fast shutting with a slam. Voices that once ruled the air waves had now sunk low under an avalanche of fear. Dreams had taken the route of despair and trust they once owned about life and people had swapped places with doubt.

In disguise of trying to help him rest, Lisander's school had suspended him for the lack of focus, for possessing obvious signs of stress that was brought about by fatigue, hunger and an overburdened mind which bred anger that the institution deemed to be a risk to others. The schools’ inspector had, without a second thought approved of the suspension pending a welfare check and support for a boy and girl who once had the grace of riches and now were down to grass. In the intervening moment, pangs of life's invisible adversaries were closing in. Nevis hadn’t quite yet felt the real weight of the change that had befell them because, firstly, she was too little to comprehend the full rays of their grim reality and, secondly, she had her big brother who cushioned her against most of the shock and pain that comes with destitution. There’s only one thing that scares a human being…