A/N: The pic included is what I imagine Lilly look's like. Now, we shall commence with the story.
***
The sleepy town of Fallmount.
Population 2, 390.
A small, cloudy town way up in the forest hills of the state of New York, roughly 3 hours away from the Big Apple. It was one of those places where everyone knew everyone and your neighbours knew way too much information about your personal life.
Fallmount, an oxymoron, if you ask me.
"Dad, where in the Sam hell sort of Hicksville are you taking us?", I asked wearily, "This place looks like a ghost town." I leaned my head on the window pane of our 2010 Silverado and stared out the window at the passing trees on the winding road. Forest, forest, and more forest was all I could see, with breaks among the trees where turn-off roads were.
"Lilly," he sighed, before he continued, "this will be good for us. A small town away from the craziness of the city, where we can recoup, you can focus on finishing school and going off to college and I can focus on my work."
He's been dead set on moving out here for a while now and finally decided to take the leap. As an architectural drafter for Fielder and Sons Construction, he was able to transfer to another building site closer to Fallmount, about half an hour away.
I sighed and continued to stare out the window, as we finally reached some form of civilization. A turn-off road took us through to the small town of Fallmount. We passed by on the one lane road, folks turning their heads to stare at our red pickup.
I guess this town was so small that they automatically knew when newbies had arrived.
We passed a hardware store, a grocery store, a liquor store, convenience and general store, 99 cent shop, Ruby's Yoga Studio, a diner called Smoke's Burgers and continued on through the town, passing more shops along the way.
Typical small town vibe - cramped and quaint - at least from my perspective.
We passed by the high school, Fallmount High, - creative - Home of the Hawks, then turned left down Windermere Road, as the sign said.
We pulled into the driveway of 118 Windermere Road, a Craftsman-style bungalow with faded muted blue siding, one and a half stories. This was definitely much larger than our cramped Lower East Side Manhattan apartment. There was a porch with a white railing and the window panes were painted in white. The walkway, parallel to the lawn, was a grey shale stone, with bright green shrubbery surrounding the house.
I jumped down out of our pickup, my combat boots hitting the dusty drive with a soft thud. Shutting the truck door, I stuck my hands in the back pockets of my shorts and surveyed the house.
Quaint and ordinary, I thought. Everything about this town was just...ordinary. There was no character, like the half brick wall that existed in our apartment back in New York. I was just a city girl, through and through.
