The Visitor in my home story
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There was something about this morning’s headline that was supposed to cause alarm. But 26 year old Anna read it in bed, and now while groggily preparing breakfast she can’t for the life of her remember which one was supposed to strike some fear. In a way, they all were supposed to. Murders, scams, love horoscopes, all tumbling together like clothes in the washer.
She plops some eggs in hot water, toasts some bread, sets the butter and jams, prepares tea for herself and boils cola in a saucepan for her sister, Aera.
Was it about yet another new contagious virus? About London wanting to exit Britain? No, Lexit was old news. Or was it that bit about a teen who jumped out the window in a blind panic just to avoid being caught with her boyfriend? Anna certainly understood that fear. Despite being the obedient doormat, somehow she was always the one in trouble with her parents. Because she always found herself being conned into covering up for her sister’s honorary roster of boyfriends. Aera was three years younger, definitely far more popular, and anytime Anna even thinks about her- there she manifests.