She was 12 the first time she saw the door. The woods were crisp, and a bit cold for October, the leaves rattling around her ankles. The air had that certain scent, like ice and smoke, peculiar to autumn.
A brief stirring, a breeze across her face, and it smelled of olives, warm and dusty. And so she turned her head, and saw the door.
It was propped up against an old tree of indeterminate species, hanging by one hinge from the barely attached frame. And through the door...
She ran all the way home, to hot chocolate and warm sweaters, and nothing like a dangerous summer.
***
Mary is 30, which she knew last week. She is also an orphan, which she did not know until this week.
She's standing numbly in the threshold of her parents' old house, trying to remember the last time she was here.
"Excuse me, miss." One of the movers bumps her from behind, and she moves aside. He continues onward with full arms. He might have nudged a dog aside, for all the eye contact she gets. Mary sighs, slowly moves through the house.
Every room is in that bizarre state of packing, half-empty and full of misplaced items. Workers are haphazardly stowing things in boxes to move to the auctionhouse later. There's an estate sale scheduled tomorrow, which she is supposed to attend. She's supposed to be doing something now, too - what?
"Miss?" Another mover, this one with black hair and direct eyes. He waits until she nods, paying attention. "You need to point out what you want to keep. I'll pack it separate. If you see anything too big for a box, tie some yellow tape around it." She silently accepts the roll from him, and looks around.
"I live in an apartment. I won't be taking any furniture." Her voice comes out roughly. She hasn't used it most of the day.
"Perhaps upstairs? They haven't touched the bedrooms yet, not until you give the okay." He's smiling gently, like she might meltdown at any moment. Mary has the briefest impression that this company does this a lot - moves out the deceased - and that he's the designated Distraught Family attendee.
A brief stirring, a breeze across her face, and it smelled of olives, warm and dusty. And so she turned her head, and saw the door.
It was propped up against an old tree of indeterminate species, hanging by one hinge from the barely attached frame. And through the door...
She ran all the way home, to hot chocolate and warm sweaters, and nothing like a dangerous summer.
***
Mary is 30, which she knew last week. She is also an orphan, which she did not know until this week.
She's standing numbly in the threshold of her parents' old house, trying to remember the last time she was here.
"Excuse me, miss." One of the movers bumps her from behind, and she moves aside. He continues onward with full arms. He might have nudged a dog aside, for all the eye contact she gets. Mary sighs, slowly moves through the house.
Every room is in that bizarre state of packing, half-empty and full of misplaced items. Workers are haphazardly stowing things in boxes to move to the auctionhouse later. There's an estate sale scheduled tomorrow, which she is supposed to attend. She's supposed to be doing something now, too - what?
"Miss?" Another mover, this one with black hair and direct eyes. He waits until she nods, paying attention. "You need to point out what you want to keep. I'll pack it separate. If you see anything too big for a box, tie some yellow tape around it." She silently accepts the roll from him, and looks around.
"I live in an apartment. I won't be taking any furniture." Her voice comes out roughly. She hasn't used it most of the day.
"Perhaps upstairs? They haven't touched the bedrooms yet, not until you give the okay." He's smiling gently, like she might meltdown at any moment. Mary has the briefest impression that this company does this a lot - moves out the deceased - and that he's the designated Distraught Family attendee.
