The World's Aftermath [ON MAJOR EDIT]

Chapter 20 [Cleo]

It's been two days. Two days ago, the Agents inspected our home. And two weeks since the day Diana has left.

I come home covering with chilling air, dust has rattled my hair around. School, I know for sure, is never much of the help anymore. Ever since, the hallways has fallen silent, voices like whispers and the attempt to smile isn't enough to brighten the day. Some has their hearts empty, some with greater fear, and others are just simply both.

And science class, I recall of it being somewhat plain. But everyone bustled out and about anyway, no one likes talking about the past, not the one that triggers fear.

Stepping in, I close the front door with little effort, noting that Mom has parked our car at mid-day.

But, this is a Wednesday--a weekday.

"Mom?" I call her. "Mom, are you home?"

The spaces and the walls answers nothing but in its own void of silence. Our couch smoothed and tidied up as I take a closer look, our kitchen itself has en empty dishwasher, not one lingering smell of baloney turns up into my sharp nose. I've always found the little seems a satisfaction when they are filled in the right orders, like plates stacking based on its size and every little corner clean of stains and molds. This place has never met these kind of standards, not before now that is.

And she thought I've always been full of surprises.

Despite the pleasant look of every little knick-knacks and furnitures, I notice bread crumbs on the kitchen's drawer. An only place where knives and food necessities has been placed on every occasion.

I let the rest steer on its own, tapping on the walls, I walk across our only hall. The thought of Agents and their footsteps, their clothing, and their skin being in contact right here and everywhere else around me is still unreal.

I don't know how every day can feel so normal, yet knowing that it really isn't it. The powerful force seems to say that it's okay and we'll be over it.

Through the gap of her slightly opened door, Mom is in a sitting position on the floor, leaning against her bed side, head tilted in her mid-work nap.

As if to sense me, she snaps awake and her eyes adjust to find me walking in. "Cleo...," She mutters with a sore throat, "You're home already? Oh good god, what time is it?"

"Mom--"

"Oh, honey, why didn't you tell me you were coming home? It's never been this early--wait, what about Eric? Did everyone come home and--"

"Mom!"

"What?"

"I told you, no one stays before three anymore. Remember?"

"Oh right," She nods, "Right..."

"Are you... are you okay, Mom?" Slowly I ask.

"Oh, oh yeah. I'm fine, I'm really fine," She answers. Her hands shuffle against one another, the cluster of invisible cold atmosphere around us dancing along. "I just... you know? Got out of work for a second, they let me go and the house was... it was a total mess so I thought, why not?" She says, "I had no idea I fell asleep."

"You're a... very honest today."

"Oh?"

"I mean not that it's bad or..."

"I know, Cleo," She smiles, roughing her hands against the top of my head.

We move to the living room, never bustling but always in motion. "So will we fix it? The hole in our stairs?"I ask, taking a seat on the couch. I've attempted to throw the backpack right near my door, only to realize how loud the books would be once it's reached the impact.