The Cardinal Order

Chapter 1

The frigid New Jersey autumn air swept across my face, feeling like tiny pinches across my skin. My blonde hair twisted with my eyelashes making my fingers twitch on the brown cardboard box digging into my palms. Balancing the box on one bare leg I tucked the blonde strands behind my ears, shifting the weight of the box to favor my right side.

As I walked towards the red bricked building of my apartment, the autumn chill seeped into my thighs, coloring them red.

Shorts, in the middle of October. Not a smart choice.

It had been warm when I left the apartment this morning but, it had rained around mid-day and the temperature had been plummeting since. Rounding the corner of Goodrich Street onto Warwick, old red brick, factory-style windows loomed over me. The Warwick Apartments used to be an old paper company, until it was refurbished into apartments. I had picked to live here because I couldn't sense any "other" taking residence in the complex. My tennis shoes squeaked off the lobby floor; a spattering of black and white hexagonal tile. Again, I readjusted the cardboard box full of books in my arms, reaching into my bag for a set of keys, miniature broomstick keychain attached.

Taking the elevator up to the second floor, I hesitated at my apartment door, sensing that there were people inside. Focusing on the door itself I could see a mix of colors collecting on the door knob. Sighing, I didn't bother unlocking the front door to my apartment and just walked in. Setting the box down on the front table, I glanced around the room. Rugs of every shape and size were laid out on the cement floor, I had a little addiction with collecting things. I had found my tufted mustard colored couch in a dumpster and after a fresh upholster and some woodwork, it looked like new. A deep oak coffee table was filled with an assortment of candelabras. A mismatch of furniture was placed around the room. A bookcase spanned the wall across from the sofa, spilling over with books. Orbs of light, looking like bobbing fireflies floated around the room. Vines of every color twisted up the brick walls. It was cozy and it was my home. I took a deep breath, taking in the fresh, clean air that filled my apartment, and turned back to my kitchen table. Four different chairs were tucked under the table-top, A wooden chair, holding a flowering chamomile plant, a vintage red diner chair, a rattan chair stacked with more books, and a metal stool with an ugly green puke color cushion. Sitting down on the green cushion I sorted through the box, taking out two titles from the top of the box, "A Handbook for Native American Herbs," and "Aging and Death in Folklore" placing them on the table.
Make them wait, I told myself mentally before, the cold in my thighs made me shiver and I couldn't put off changing into sweater any longer. 

Turning towards my room, I forced myself to inhale and exhale deeply, my temper rose making my heart rate increase. Taking once last deep breath, I took off my shoes, walking slowly into my bedroom.

There were three figures taking up the energy in my room. My eyes slid over a boy who was lazily sprawled across my bed, he was no older than 15, a mess of blonde hair on top of his head, arms thrown over his face. Toned muscles were beginning to show through his white t-shirt, I smiled in my head remembering the days when I'd carry him on my back around the house growing up. I looked towards the far wall to see a tall woman, back to me, tracing her fingers over a row of book titles on my bedroom bookcase. She had the same exact honey blonde hair as me and I knew if she turned around, I'd see the exact same face, dark blue eyes, eyebrows, and a spattering of freckles, like my own.

Looking towards my desk a man was sitting on top, legs crisscrossed, a book poised between his fingertips. His curly hair fell into his face, eyeliner smudged into his waterline. He had a teasing smirk on his face that brought a wave of nostalgia to me. A lighter was clutched in his hand, the flame teasingly grazing the spine of the book he was holding.