“The house is not empty,” I said to myself while getting up the stairs. The steps squeaked under my weight and I had to get used with it. They would not break under me for sure. Adam carried all the furniture on these steps and it didn’t break.
One thought kept bothering me. How come a house by the beach was empty? Jacky didn’t say it was a rental, because when you rent out a cottage or something there may be times when nobody stays there. I should have asked her more details about the house, or maybe Adam had some.
My son called again.
“Did you find it?”
I opened the door and got inside in the heat. “I just got here. Give me a second.” The big fan in the corner of the room was a treat. I turned it on and sat on the edge of the couch to take in the cool air. The paper for my son was on top of his dresser. That was easy. I took a picture of it and sent it to him. His message came right away, “ty,” the shortcut for young people’s “thank you.”
A few minutes later I went down the stairs again and watered the only flower I brought there in a pot, white and blue Alyssum, the fragrance of my childhood. When I got back on our tiny porch, I stood there looking down to the long ally between the houses that was stretching on a few streets. It was a narrow path where people kept their garbage bins, surfboards and old stuff they didn’t get rid off. That was my view, if I don’t mention the wall with the window in front of me.
Right before getting inside, I saw something glittering on the dirt behind the trash cans, a few feet away. No, it couldn’t be. The object looked like a unique piece of jewelry I’ve seen minutes ago, a golden sunflower, maybe a huge earring.
SEE one of my mystery stories HERE