Musky smell. Antique furniture. Dim lights, The bright smile sits upon my grandma’s face. Softly stroking the cat. The nice cat. The other cat was mean. She was always hidden. Always alone. I never pet her. I pet the nice cat.
It’s cold outside. Michigan in December is always cold. The white snow lies softly on the grass, like a fluffy blanket. When are they coming home grandma? I sit impatiently, foot bouncing rapidly up and down, waiting for my parents and my brother to return from the hotel. I miss them. I had to stay here last night all by myself. They will be here soon hun. You just hold your horses. There is nothing to do. I’m so bored.
Game show after game show. I can only watch so much of the price is right. She seems to always watch the same shows. I have nothing to do grandma, I want them to come home. Shifting in my seat. I just can’t sit here any longer. Stop your whining. There are books upstairs you can go read. Her brittle fingers continue stroking back and forth on the cats furry back. Anything is better than this. I walk upstairs. Lay on my bed in the guest room. My face melting into the pillow. I slowly drift off to sleep.