Jan ??

The snow feel gently against a grey sky. The house was quiet, for the most part. The little girl was in bed, slowly waking by singing songs to her teddy bear, and the house gave off it’s normal working sounds. The rumble of the furnace, the hum of the refrigerator, the tick of several clocks. All was steady and still, poised for the beginning of a new day.
She sat at the kitchen table, sipping coffee and wondering what important thing she’ll make important today. Lately it seems that every time she looks around the house, she can actually see the 12 years that they’ve lived here. For 12 years, she looked out the kitchen window to the branches of the fir tree next door. For 12 years, she’s walked down the three steps separating the bedrooms from the living room. For 12 years, she’s watched the house revert from what was once shiny and new, back into the old tired place of the cranky seniors who lived here before, the sounds of yelling at dusk to the kids playing in the street echoing back from 1975. The slick coat of paint that had covered up all the discontent was cracked and faded, letting the smell of wasted life and bitter memories seep into her own life. It was time to move on.

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