Jason Davenport

A knock interrupted me as I was about to start breakfast. Since Dad wasn't home I'd started the habit of taking my food upstairs to my room. And I was really starting to like it.

I could lie down lazily on a chair, or even on my bed, my food in a tray, eating at my own pace and leisure.

Dad would never had allowed me to do that. We always ate proper. Always on a dining table.

But as I was alone, I'd started to indulge in little things I'd never done before.

"Come in!" I ordered, throwing a potato fry in my mouth.

A servant walked...