SEQUENTIAL ━ Connor // RK800 ✔️

thirteen ━ memory lane

• • •

It's been years since she had seen the home she grew up in and if she were to describe it just then, when the creak of the tyres on that old car marked the moment Connor parked in front of the front porch, Mia would say it was a place immune to time: it hadn't changed, not even a bit.

The same door, the same dusty windows where only the sign of "Service Around Back" was cleaned spotless and shinning in the midday sun. It was her family name on that rusty postbox, and her window overlooking the street from the terrace floor of the house. From inside the car, she could still make out the outline of all the dolls and little figures she lined up on that inner window sill, remnants of a past untouched since she had abandoned it by her own free will.

"His car is not here," Mia muttered, bringing her eyes back to the front yard. "We may yet be in luck," she met Connor's gaze before exiting their vehicle and finally greeting for herself the daunting sensation of stepping on the cobblestone leading to the front door of her home. The last she's done that, she was younger and more determined, a student aspiring to a greatness one could never achieve in a small town high school. There was an angry father behind her back then, screaming as if that could have stopped her from leaving for Detroit once her acceptance letter was in her hand and her dreams burnt a little brighter.

Given her hesitation in front of the door once they've reached it, Connor took the initiative to ring the bell himself.

"If he's not home," he reasoned while waiting for any sound to answer from inside the house, "would that mean you want us to break in?" He let his gaze turn to Mia while he pressed on the button to ring the bell a little longer the second time around. Perplexed enough to tilt his head to the side, he watched her walk towards the roundest pot to the side, where it stood amongst a bunch to form a decaying picture of neglected plants barely scrapping about to thrive in their little corner of the world.

From under that exact pot on the second row, Mia took the key to the house and returned by his side, "It's not exactly a break-in when you have a key and you've been paying the mortgage for the past couple of years."

Connor stepped aside to allow her the bare minimum of necessary space to access the lock on the door. "It may still count as one if..."

"Well," Mia twisted the key in the lock, interrupting him, "we'll be out and on our way before he's back. This isn't a break-in if we don't get caught." She pushed the door open and was hit, head on, by the scent of home. All her bravery had suddenly drained through the soles of her feet - How could the place still smell the same? How could she still remember it so clearly as to recognize it?

It wasn't hard for Connor to piece together why Mia would hesitate before the open door, but given her voiced wish to be in and out of that place without coming face to face with her father once he inevitably returned, he placed his right hand on her shoulder and made his way past her to get inside the house first. "Where do we find what you need?" He gave the interior a quick scan, one however fortunately interrupted by Mia pointing him forward.

"The garage. My dad's workshop is in there," she explained, settling to following Connor through her own house. This quiet arrangement of theirs was what she would define then as perhaps the only way in which she'd be able to traverse the living room and the kitchen without feeling like a stranger walking through a past she's worked hard to outgrow. She could almost see the ghosts of her childhood, the wires and motherboards on every surface, dining with her a breakfast rushed as she listened to the latest news from the city of innovation so close, yet so far away from her grasp. That little girl would have met who she was now and cried excited tears of joy to meet the embodiment of her dreams, the woman she has always wanted to be - save for the recent mishaps with the law.