Breeze

The car door creaked open, letting in the cold, heavy September rain. Shivering, you stepped out of the gray sedan, the rain instantly drenching your dark braids and clinging to your clothes.

You hurried towards the three-story red brick house, seeking shelter under the overhang of the doorway. Your brother, William, struggled with your heavy purple suitcase behind you.

Inside, the house felt spacious and unfamiliar, a stark contrast to the cold silence of the home you left behind. The tension between you and William was thick as he led you upstairs to your new room. It was large and comfortable, the master bedroom, a small comfort in a world that felt increasingly alienating.

Left alone, you changed and began unpacking, finding old picture frames that stirred painful memories of happier times. The weight of the summer's events pressed down on you, the guilt a constant ache. Just as you were about to confront the lingering thoughts of your estranged friend, Tom, William's voice called from downstairs, announcing the arrival of pizza.