wrapped books | lrh {rewriting} | joseph is dallas, rewriting still in process

0.2

I crept downstairs, making the least amount of noise as possible, although I had no reason to since I was home alone. But I didn't want to be loud around the house, even if it was just me.

I reached the bottom of the stairs and started walking to the door behind them.

It was a rusty, old-looking door with an old-fashioned door handle and keyhole, my mom was like that.

She was practically the definition of vintage.

I reached up to the top of the doorframe grabbing the key, my dad thought he was a genius by hiding it there.

I inserted the key into the keyhole and unlocked the door. I pushed the door open as slowly as possible, only to make the door creak louder than it should have.

I didn't open the door all the way but enough for me to fit through, and I slid through the opening before closing the door behind me.

The room had no light switch, so my only source of light was the sun rays streaming through the window.

Again, her admiration for vintage things restricted her from using lightbulbs, so she had candles as a replacement. I walked up to the large dusty book shelf and scanned through the books.

The shelf had every kind of book possible. It consisted of books from action to fantasy to comedy to romance.

My eyes caught the romance fiction books and I scanned through all the names.

None of them seemed to have intrigued me as I kept searching. They were either books from the early 1950s or books I've already read and not all the books I've read really entertained me well.

I gave up on my search for a good book to read tonight. I walked out through the door, leaving the room the same way I entered and locking the door. I placed the key back to where it was supposed to be kept before I started my way towards the stairs, then the doorbell rang.

I groaned in frustration, not in the mood to have an actual conversation today.

I opened the door to reveal Connie holding a bag which I assume contained tacos from Taco Bell.

Connie was my best friend since the 8th grade and she was the one who introduced me to Joseph. Connie would always come over unannounced and it never seemed to bother my dad, but it's starting to bother me.

She knew me like the back of her own hand. But Connie would never just come over with tacos unless she felt like there was something missing or something bothering her.

I groaned in frustration again. She knew me too well, of course I'd help her out.

"Well, hello to you to," she giggled and pushed past me into the house, I closed the door behind her.

"What do you want?" I asked and folded my arms, not in the mood for her games. She was obviously bothered by something.

"I brought tacos," she said as she held up the bag.

I eyed the bag for a few seconds before diverting my gaze to her. I gave her a look, which I assumed would show that I'm not buying her whole attitude right now.

She was now the one groaning in frustration, "fine," she gave in, "I made a mistake and I need advice."

I knew it.

I grabbed her hand and the taco bag and dragged her into the kitchen and placed the bag on the bag.

I sat on the stool by the island and patted on the other stool to let her sit, "talk to me."