The rain was pitter-pattering on the top of the tin roof, and it poured down onto the window. Oliver Leaftree watched the rain fall into the puddles and create ripples. The evergreen trees looked a certain shade of grey, and the sky didn't look much different. A sharp rap on the door startled Oliver, and he jumped from his chair. Oliver opened the door, and was not surprised to see his mother. His mother, Wanda, looked nothing like him, with light blond hair and a wide smile. Oliver's face, his mother told him, looked just like his father's. He had dark hair, and his smile was thin and weak. This was okay, though, because Oliver didn't smile much. He didn't see much to smile about. With the French revolution waiting to happen, Oliver had seen many things that gave him reason not to smile. Wanda moved past Oliver and unloaded her things, and her problems, onto the kitchen table.
"These damn French and their 'independence'. It's nothing more than rebel mumbo-jumbo. If I wanted to hear about democracy, I'd go to the Americas."
Most days went like this for Oliver. His mother came home in a huff about whatever was bothering her. Usually the French or the Brits. Oliver had gotten three raises since September, but with all of his mother's talking, he had never gotten the time to tell her. Wanda continued to place the groceries onto the counter, as she ranted on and on.
