A Refugee's Face

Kavinsky woke early. Al was out already, a note left on the kitchen counter saying he had work until the middle of the day, but would bring back lunch on his way back in from town. Kav made coffee and sat at the table, flipping a strange coin he'd dreamt back and forth over his knuckles as he waited for it to brew. There were supplies still to get for Newt's birthday on Monday, but otherwise the house was in order. It was just quiet and still, and he liked that, the moments before the house was full awake.