When the Smoke Clears

Bitter

Several Days Ago…

The clouds hung stubbornly above Mt. Narlassus, blanketing the town in a dreary, hopeless grey. The grasses shifted reluctantly against the chill of the wind, and people huddled close as they could to themselves and against one another for warmth. The colour seemed to drain from the hedges and grasses, and the paint of the houses lost all luminosity, one melting into the next for streets on end. Leaves skittered across the footpaths and flew into back yards, sprinkling the crystalline surface of various pools with their deadened silhouette.

If one were to exit their home and go for a leisurely run, they would find the biting chill of the wind, and the deserted streets of their neighbourhoods inhospitable and foreign. Couples made their way to and from various places; a few of the brave ones even dared to come out and sit upon the wooden park benches, holding gloved hands. Lights flicked on in windows, despite the time, and shutters closed. Cold was not welcomed.

Neither was she.

A figure clad in a long coat stood braced against the cold in the driveway of the looming residence. It was tall and narrow, a two-storey, two bedroom house, built in faux-modern fashion. It extended back into the block of land, making it deceptively deep. The entire street had been built in a similar fashion; boxy and minimalistic with suggested shapes, walls broken up by well-placed light coverings and window frames. The figure grimaced and began to walk toward the front door; it looked like an expensive neighbourhood. She’d never been to a street where the house numbers were spelled out with letters in calligraphic fonts.

She was a tall woman, built strong and angular with excellent posture and straight shoulders. She wore a black tank top that ended just short of her silver belt buckle, and long straight-cut trousers. Her coat stretched to the backs of her knees and split at the small of her back, made of a sturdy and nondescript charcoal grey material. Her cool grey eyes commanded attention and her brow seemed to be creased into a permanent frown, giving the impression that there was always something she wasn’t happy about. 

Her gait was steady and sure, every step a carefully calculated movement on the way to the door. She passed a short and shiny Volkswagen and climbed the steps to the porch, a large green duffle bag slung over her shoulder. When she reached the door, she instinctively leant forward for the knob and paused; it really wasn’t her place to just enter. Instead, she reached for the doorbell and pressed. A soft, melodic chime came from within the house, muffled by the door. Footsteps. A muffled sigh came from behind the door before it swung inward.

“Sonia.” The greeting was even less hospitable than the weather.

The black-clad woman’s lips tightened into a small line, and she allowed the barest of nods. “Mother.”  

“- Ex-mother,” The older woman in the doorway corrected sharply. Her eyes told of nerves and fear veiled behind anger, and she defensively guarded the entryway like a bird would its nest from intruders. They stared at each other for another few moments, the tension thick and fierce. Eventually, she slackened her shoulders and gave a heaving sigh. “Come in, I set things up.” She invited begrudgingly, turning into the hall. Sonia followed, closing the door behind her. Her boots left no dirt on the floor as they moved into what appeared to be a living room.

Under the warm overhead lights, Sonia’s olive-brown complexion flourished, her eyes surveying the living room. Creature comforts were littered about; a couch and two reclining chairs pointed to a flat-screen television, short candles were scattered over various surfaces, and off to the left, she was able to make out a small, spotless kitchen. A myriad of scents, none of them overpowering or unpleasant, were available to smell. From the musk of the meal cooking in the kitchen, to the natural and earthy perfume of the wood-panelled floors, she might have felt instantly at home if it weren’t for her host’s foul mood. Even then, it was still kind of similar to home - things were never all that relaxed there.