Life moves on...

Chapter 1

12:17 p.m. 15/09/2019
The boy knew he was late. Infact it was his intention to be late. People would see this as a sign of rebellion, and they would be right. The boy was on his way to somewhere his parents had forced him to go. Grinding his teeth, he turned a corner and a couple of seconds later stood in front of a two-storey house painted pink. But if one looked closely, they would notice in the frames of the doors and windows were engraved Latin proverbs gold in color.
The house itself was guarded by a short silver gate. So short was the gate that the boy could open it from the inside while standing outside.
He could, but he didn't. She wouldn't approve of it. She ofcourse being the owner of the house. He sighed and took out his phone and sent a message to the owner of the house, informing her of his arrival. A couple of seconds later, he heard the familiar
DING
from his phone, signaling that he had received a notification. He read it and opened the gate to approach the front door. To his left and right, there were two small gardens that which were usually bare except for the neatly trimmed grass. But today he saw that there were freshly planted roses bordering the lawn on his right. He stood there for a moment, observing this new arrival and then proceeded to press the door bell. He turned his attention to the plate next to the door bell. It was an immaculately cut granite slab and engraved into it in gold (she did like her gold) was:
540B
Miss Violet Brown
She was taking her time answering the door today. After about 5 minutes, he was about to press the door bell again when the door abruptly opened and there stood the owner of the house. Miss Violet. Although she insisted he call her Violet. But no matter how rebellious he was, he didn't forget his manners.
"Good morning Usman!" she exclaimed.
Miss Violet had the habit of sounding jolly in whatever she said, even when she was wasn't in the best of moods. Today was no exception.
"Mornin' ma'am" he replied.
Miss Violet waved her hand dismissively.
"Please, call me Violet."
"Yes ma'am."
They had this conversation on every visit. Violet stood there, one hand grasping the door frame, the other resting on a limp wrist. Awkward silence ensued the next 5 seconds.
She broke the silence by gesturing inside.
"Please, come on in!"
She disappeared inside. Usman stood outside for a while, steeling himself. He took a deep breath, and went in for his weekly therapy session.