Excerpt #8



photo.   

She sits at the kitchen table. The worn wood is soft beneath her fingertips. A large window behind her lets the light filter through, creating melding patterns on her pale skin. She breathes softly, her gaze lingering on the figures that traipse in and out of the kitchen and dining room, down the corridor, up the stairs, her mother and brother.
They are so full of life, she can almost feel the extra slipping out of them. She isn't jealous of their careless happiness, it makes her smile. And as Jacob slips into a chair beside her with his meal he exclaims in such an exuberant voice that she finds that rare, genuine laughter bubbling up inside of her and with it comes a peace she hasn't felt in a while.
She thinks of all those that care for them and now comes the inevitable, forbidden thought that they might be alright when she leaves. You can see her now with a faint smile caressing her lips and you can almost read her thoughts, the quiet, persistent ones which are planted just beyond the high fences she has built. She's thinking, "I hope things stay like this when I'm gone".