Melany Fellington is a young girl who lives in poverty in a changed world. She doesn't have what others have the room to have, but family made what she has more than enough. During substandard times of oppression, a fatal interference threatens her...
* Closest photo representation of Carra's house above *
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(Friday, September 14th)
After a long drive of a couple of hours, I arrived at Carra's house. I turned off the ignition, and took a moment to take a deep breath. I lifted my wrist, my gaze centering on the analog time from my small golden watch, '12:00 a.m.' It was now midnight, and the day had just become Friday.
I checked my phone, and I now noticed that there were five notifications from Angelina. I opened up my phone and read her five texts:
"Olson woke up briefly because of what his father said to him earlier, but before I could try to comfort him, he just asked me to turn on his favorite tv show. Because I am not you... Sleep came soon after."
I frowned, still quite infuriated because of what kept my child awake, but smiled in gratitude that she was there for him, and I immediately felt eased in a way to know that my son was alright currently. I then continued reading Angelina's messages:
"And I checked up on Melany."
"She is also sound asleep."
"But she's drooling bad."
"I wonder what she's dreaming about? 🤔 You maybe? 😏"
Her joke took me off guard and a small muted chuckle left my lips. I shook my head while typing back a reply:
"Send a picture."
Angelina then sent a photo of Melany drooling all over her pillow, and simultaneously my heart started beating faster while a bright smile of adoration surfaced on my face, and this smile was because of what I had begun to think, 'She's so unbelievably beautiful. Every single moment, and every single second...'
I was still smiling, and my heart was still beating fast as I turned off my phone, then slipped it into the back pocket of my black suit pants. I grabbed my black suit blazer from the passenger seat, and put it on as I left my car, and closed the door.
My close friend's house is a modern country home with white wood, various stone patterns surrounding the base of the house, and many windows. The house is way bigger than it looks on the outside. But Carra prefers to call it a modern country mansion and I decided to not say anything because I can see her perspective.
My black high heels then made contact with the personalized concrete path as I started walking to Carra's front door, and eventually I walked up the steps, now reaching the door. I brought my hand up to ring her doorbell once.
