Inseparable

Preface

Preface

The first thing I remember about the house was the pungent smell of death. No one had resided in the house for years, but the aroma was fresh and acrid to my nose. The second thing was the boy. I had first seen him through the window when we had stood in the front yard, gaping at the huge home. Dark circles surrounded his eyes. His expression was solemn. He must have sensed that I was staring at him because he had turned his head abruptly and his dark eyes met my own.

I had gasped, stupidly. He had raised his pointer finger to his lips and mouthed the words quiet. I only nodded and followed my aunt into the house. My aunt was a plain as plain could be. She made small talk with neighbors and watched all the latest television shows. She was organized and careful. She was my primary care-taker.

When we had entered the house I saw him again. He was standing in the foyer. I narrowed my eyes at him. He didn’t speak; he only stood there with a dumb look of confusion. My aunt, apparently, didn’t see him. Neither did the movers, although he had stood there and watched them bring in every item of furniture.

I can’t tell you exactly why I didn’t scream and run away from the house. I can’t tell you why I wasn’t frightened. I was clearly the prey. He was obviously the slick, bold panther and I was the weak, timid gazelle. But for some reason, an incomprehensible reason, I felt secure with him there.