| Mackenzie leaned back in her chair and sighed. Fall will be here soon. The time had flown by much too quickly that summer; so much had happened in such a short expanse of time. No friends had come to visit as they had promised, but what was she to expect from the shallow acquaintances of her childhood? As much as she wanted to pretend otherwise, it hurt that none had so much as called her on the phone. They were her friends, weren�t they? Not even her boyfriend could be bothered with her, and she really couldn�t blame them. She abandoned them- left for a life full of comfort, never again to worry about where her next meal came from or if her parents would be home that night from working the graveyard shift for the third night in a row. No, never again. The inheritance was a bit unexpected, but deaths usually are. Her father hadn�t really grieved, just went about his duties as if nothing had happened. It was beyond her; how could he just continue living, even if he wasn�t that close to his brother? Obviously her uncle had felt bad about things; else he wouldn�t have left his earthly possessions in the care of his brother. Kahli yawned then stretched out in one graceful, languid motion. She leapt out of the window box and scratched at the front door, mewling pitifully. Mackenzie smiled as she nudged the screen door open with her foot. The cat slipped through; the door clattered shut. The echo reverberated down the driveway and out onto the tree-lined street. �That�s the problem with this place: it�s always so quiet. This silence makes me morbid.� She rose abruptly and scanned the street for activity. Where are the people? There are never children playing baseball in the street, or tag on the lawns. It�s all too surreal here- tranquility so perfect that it seems ominous. Afraid of breaking the silence, Mackenzie crept inside a silent house. Her mother sat in a chair reading, glanced up only momentarily, both acknowledging her daughter�s presence and warning her to keep away. Mackenzie wandered up stairs. The house still felt strange to her; it wasn�t her house, it was her uncle�s, it just had her furniture in it. Outside the birds chattered and the crickets buzzed mindlessly. The clack of the father�s typewriter drifted down the hallway. In her room, the cat lay on her pillow, purring contentedly in the warmth of the sunlight. Diaphanous curtains fluttered in the breeze. This used to be my father�s room, when he was a boy. This was his home, is his home again. It must be hard to walk through a house so vividly coloured with bad memories. Mackenzie laid herself across the width of the bed, head and feet hanging off of either end. She watched her glass mobile dance on its cord; it cast a thousand minute rainbows across the ceiling. Sometimes it�s a wonder that beauty so simple can exist in a place like this. Everything here seems so exquisitely ornate, so presumptuous, and yet it all seems so ugly sometimes� |