He moved through the hallway silently, feet padded against the carpeted stairs with the ease of someone trained to be quiet though in this house, no one would have noticed either way. The scent of burnt toast and undercooked eggs drifted upward, blending with coffee that had been left on the hot plate a little too long. The smell wasn't unpleasantit was lived in.
When he stepped into the kitchen, he stopped not abruptly, not theatrically. Just long enough to take stock of the scene.
Beth stood at the stove, her back to the room, cooking with half her attention. One hand was scrambling eggs in a pan that had seen better years, the other was cradling her phone at an awkward angle, thumb moving, probably flipping through lab reports or answering early messages from work. She looked tired not outwardly, but in the shoulders. In the way her hair was tied back with just enough effort to say she still tried.
Summer was sunk into the couch in the living room just beyond the kitchen, legs crossed, phone glowing inches from her face. Her nails tapped against the screen rhythmically texting or scrolling or both. She didn't look up. She didn't need to. This was a loop. Everyone was on autopilot.
Except one.
Morty scanned the kitchen again, subtly, carefully. The seat Rick usually occupied was empty. The smell of chemicals and oil, the quiet clink of metal tools absent. No flask on the counter. No muttering from the garage. Just absence.
Viktor made note of it. Not with alarm. Just curiosity.
Then his eyes landed on Jerry.
He was sitting at the small table by the window, shoulders hunched, a mug in hand, and a newspaper spread open in front of him. The kind of morning posture that said, I'm being useful. I'm engaging with the world. He held the paper with both hands, face hidden behind it like a man trying to appear intelligent by osmosis.
Morty paused. Something felt… off.
His head tilted slightly. Just enough to read the orientation of the text.
And then he saw it.
The newspaper was upside down.
Not in some abstract way completely, obviously, flipped. The bold-faced title of the front page was hanging below the fold like an awkward mustache.
Morty said nothing for a moment. Just walked slowly to the counter and reached for a mug. He poured himself coffee black, too bitter for a child, but perfectly fine for him nowand took a quiet sip.
Morty took another sip of coffee, then walked slowly over to the table. He didn't sit—just loomed beside Jerry, casually, gaze dropping to the paper.
"You know that's upside down, right?"
The paper twitched. Jerry peeked up, clearly startled, then forced a laugh that came out too high and too fast.
"Oh! Haha, yeah, I—I noticed. Just, uh, keeping my brain sharp, you know? It's a mental workout. Neuro-flexibility!"
Morty raised an eyebrow. "Reading the comics upside down counts as mental gymnastics now?"
Jerry blinked. "Well, actually—"
"Because for the last three minutes, you've been pretending to read a coupon for cat food, and unless that's your retirement plan, I'd say the workout's not going so well."
Summer snorted from the couch.
Jerry's mouth opened, then closed again. He tried to recover, waving the paper in defense.
"I'm just staying informed!"
"Then maybe pick a real article," Morty said, plucking the paper from Jerry's hands. He turned it right side up and laid it on the table like presenting evidence to a jury. "Here. Big headline. Says we're running out of water. Bet you didn't even know we were hydrated to begin with."
Beth chuckled under her breath as she plated the eggs. "Wow, Morty. You're on fire this morning."
Jerry straightened in his seat, flustered, trying to salvage something. "I was multitasking, alright? I can read upside down. It's not hard."
Morty didn't even look at him this time. He just sipped his coffee and muttered, "If it were that easy, maybe you'd read a job listing correctly."
That did it.
Summer burst out laughing, almost dropping her phone. Beth laughed too quietly, but genuinely. Jerry shrank in his chair, flushed and defensive, eyes darting like a man searching for the emergency exit in his own kitchen.
Morty turned, calm and quiet, and returned to the counter as if nothing had happened.
The room was lighter now, somehow. Summer kept chuckling to herself. Beth whistled a tune as she scraped toast onto plates.
And Jerry stayed quiet, slowly flipping the now-righted newspaper with the quiet despair of a man who had just lost a fight he didn't know had started.
_________
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