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Daily 
Warm-Up
12
Fiction: Contemporary Realism
Morning Meal
Jorge couldn’t help hovering in the doorway, absently 
rubbing the back of his neck while observing his 
mother under the comforter. He’d never seen her 
rise later than him, and he wondered what prompted 
it now.
“Mom?” he finally dared speak. “Is there anything you 
need before I catch the bus?”
“Mercy, what time is it?” She gave him a wan smile. “I 
should start my day, but it was such a horrid night. I 
hardly slept at all.”
He twisted his hands in front of him, while attempting 
to reassure her. “Not to worry. I fixed breakfast and 
packed a lunch. Are you sure there isn’t anything I can 
bring you?”
Mom tried to lift herself up to a sitting position but fell 
back on the pillows. “What an awful migraine. It left 
me dizzy. I’d better take this slowly.” She turned her 
head to gaze at him. “Maybe some toast and juice, if 
you have enough time?”
Jorge practically bounded down the hall in his 
eagerness to please her. He fumbled in the kitchen, 
retrieving the toaster from the lower cupboard and 
putting a bagel down. While it toasted, he rummaged 
around for butter and jam, considering the options and 
trying to recall her favorite flavor. There wasn’t any 
strawberry, and his dad was the one who used 
raspberry, so that settled it: pomegranate jam.
Jorge poured juice and searched for a tray to carry 
everything. His preparations kept him from noticing 
the acrid smell of burning bread. Glancing at the clock, 
he hastily assembled the food and delivered the tray to 
Mom. He didn’t have time to consider what he’d do if 
she didn’t approve.
“Thank you, Jorge.” Mom had managed to rouse 
herself a bit. “I’m sure the food will be just the thing to 
strengthen me. Don’t worry about me; I’ll be fine.”
As he departed, Jorge marveled that she hadn’t even 
hollered about the burnt toast!
Text Questions
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