Another Lite! It’s definitely not my best story, but I thought I’d try a different writing style. Please let me know what you think of this attempt.:)
A car rolled along the suburban streets. The vehicle was obviously a luxury car. Top of the class. And it fit right in the neighborhood. Affluent. Posh. The kind where you expect people to wear diamonds on a daily basis as though it were nothing. The gates were tall, high enough that you cannot see what was behind those, and intimidating enough that you’d be scared of ringing the doorbell for whatever reason. What it cannot hide are the large houses, visible even with the barriers, as well as the neatly-trimmed trees that cannot have been made The streets were empty. No one was walking their dog, even with the lateness of the afternoon. No kids were running around as well. All in all, the place gives off a polished air that seems strangely empty.
The car slowly stopped in front of the most modest house in the neighborhood (yet still considered enormous in the outside world). Out of it stepped a young woman, wearing completely white, save for the huge shades she wore that covered half of her face.
Thank you for the ride, she said.
No, she’s ok.
No, she didn’t want anything else, but thanks for offering.
She slowly walked towards the gate, deactivating and reactivating the security as she stepped in. She proceeded on the path to the house. In front of the door, she paused, and then taking a deep breath, she turned the knob and walked in.
The house still looked the same.
The arrangement was exactly as she left it. The white sofa was tilted a little to the right, with the beige pillows invitingly fluffed, begging to be placed on someone’s lap. In the other room was the dining area. Like the
Just the way he liked it.
She shook her head, as if to clear it. As if to remove what entered her mind, she proceeded instead to the bedroom.
The memories these evoke are more tangible. The white rug they picked out was there. His shaving equipment and his toothbrush are still in the connecting bathroom. The bed with its eggshell-colored sheets was there, but not bearing the indentation of his form. Worse was the smell. His scent lingered. She inhaled. She always loved that smell, more addicting than the Clinique Happy scent they both loved so much. Almost in a daze, she stepped to the closet and opened it. The scent was stronger, but all too soon, it faded. Too quickly, it seemed, as though to mock her that the only thread that held him there didn’t exist. She pulled out the blue plaid shirt, his favorite, an irony since he always preferred white over any other color. She held it in her hands. Tightly, as though it were her lifeline. Finally, her composure slipped, and she started sobbing. Quietly at first, and then steadily growing harder, until finally, her legs gave way and she collapsed on her knees, still sobbing, still clutching the shirt on her chest.
Why? Why did you have to leave?