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Johannes Vermeer 1665 ____
THE sky was clear, the recent rain from days before seemed permanently gone. No signs of upcoming snow either. The air had a sweet scent, the warmness surrounded the apartment, and Colin struggled to understand how to use the washing machine.
At the kitchen, Alice had just gotten back from the market, putting the meat away from the vegetables with dilligence as she called her sister from the other side of the flat. Her mind raced with a million thoughts, from what to prepare for lunch to sending resumés all over town so she could find a new job.
"Bree!" She continued to call but her sister didn't come. "Bree come on! I need some help here!" Alice tied her hair into a ponytail since the strands kept falling above her face, she tried to create an imaginary space between some content in the fridge so she could put a box of frost soy burguers inside. "Bree!!!" She yelled irritated.
Once she managed to squeeze the box within the ice, footsteps approached the counter behind her. A figure stopped. "What are you doing?" A voice called from behind. She turned around, Bree had her arms crossed, that sarcastic smile on her face, wearing a flowery dress with long sleeves, her favourite.
"Organizing this mess. Can you help me?" Alice asked as she put some glasses into the sink so she could wash them later.
"Alice, Bree can't help you" her sister sudddnly answered.
"What? Why?" Alice chuckled finding it funny.
"Alice, Bree isn't here." she retorted.
"What do you mean she isn't here? You're right in front of-"
"Bree is dead, Alice."
When Alice Mallory looked again at her sister's face, the long brown hair haf vanished, turned shorter. A more pale skin colored her, with fragile, broken eyes.
That wasn't Bree.
The glass on her hand slipped through her fingers, shattering once it hit the floor, with some pieces almost touching her feet.
"Oh my God, are you alright?" Colin hushed after her, trying to catch the glass from the floor.
"Shit." Alice muttered getting back to reality. "I'm sorry, Colin, let me get that." She squated on the ground next to him, the eyes glued on the floor, the image still in her head, it was so clear, so natural, impossible to think it was just an illusion. Colin observed her in silence, he feared his sister would never recover again, Bree was a huge loss in their lives, almost impossible to believe.
"You called me Bree again." He confessed.
Alice barely could look at him while answering "I'm sorry..."
They finished taking the glass from the floor, throwing it away at the trash can. Colin finished the dishes, Alice had finished her tasks.
