06. dinner time

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the past _ four years ago

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I step out of my car and head inside my house, thinking about my day.

I chuckle as I remember Isabel watching me during basketball practice, I felt her eyes on me almost all the time and I think back to what she told me at the church.

Could I be the boy she was talking about? That doesn't make sense, I could have seen her watching me or was I too obsessed in watching her that I didn't catch on it?

I shake my head. It was even funnier, seeing her glance over her shoulder all the time during her sports lesson because I was watching her from the other side, since I had a free period.

I sigh and place my bag in my room. I turn around and see my mother standing in the doorway with a huge smile on her face.

"Hey mom." I greet her and give her a kiss on the cheek. Even though most of my friends don't have a really good relationship with their parents, I'm however grateful for having them.

"Get ready, we'll have a guest over for dinner." She replies.

"A guest?" I ask confused, not knowing who she might be talking about.

"You might know her. Her name is Isabel Pierce."

"How-, What?" I ask confused, not knowing what to say because I'm quite shocked about this information.

"Oh I sometimes met Isabel and her mother in church and that poor thing is often alone since her parents are always gone, so I thought she could eat with us. She's such a sweet girl. Be ready, she should be here in twenty minutes." Mom replies and goes downstairs.

I stand in my room but a slow smirk crosses my face.

My little angel will be in my house, near me with no escape. This should be rather interesting.

I look around my room, seeing it clean but I still decide to take a shower, to smell fresh.

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Once I'm done I walk downstairs into the kitchen, seeing my parents making the dinner ready.

"Hello, dad." I greet him.

"Hello, son. You can set up the table." He replies and I nod, taking silverware, napkins and plates into the dinning room.

A wooden table is placed in the middle, shining with the soft light of the wrought-iron chandelier hanging above. Despite my father’s love of the traditional Japanese style of decorating, my mother won and furnished our house with lots of dark wood, carpets, paintings, and colors.
But she also aimed to please him. There were wonderful views of our property and plenty of natural light entering the house.

THE ART OF OBSESSION, kai moriWhere stories live. Discover now