Every Home Has A Crack In It’s Walls

The sun crept over the rooftop showing cracks in the paint on the house. Funny how she saw it now. Before, the paint glossed over the wood perfectly. But now, she could see everything: the cracks, the webs, the dirt. Even the flowers across the lawn seemed a bit droopy. Sydney racked her brain trying to remember when her and B. had stopped caring for the yard as much. Weren’t they always outside? Together? The flowers should have more life than that.

It wasn’t until Jon placed his hand on her shoulder, that she remembered. Sydney’s eyes stung with tears as she tilted her head back and scrunched her nose.

Jon tightened his grip on his sister.

Sydney dabbed her nose with the back of her hand and began to walk away.

“You can’t go!” Jon blurted. “If you go, you’ll be dead, just like B.”

She paused. Her eyes clouded with anger, then melted into softness.

She embraced her brother’s hands into hers and whispered,

“I am already dead.”

Then turned around, once more and walked away.



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