Death petals

The man who had a heart attack

Holding his luggage and briefcase by his side, Domenic gradually took steps back into his house. The floors creaked with the following steps of his presence. The home hadn't changed a bit, the floors neatly polished the garden trimmed, growing unripe vegetables and the feeling of devotion but still in his town it doesn't seem right, its so quiet but a quiet making him seem uneasy. As if he didn't feel all at home. Seeing people outside. Feeling a xenization feeling knowing that he is no longer a person of this village, a stranger to be reintroduced. Expectation the house to be full but yet so lonely and shallow it was dark and about to snow; so limp like Domenic walked over to the fireplace and started throwing the wood at it; sitting there, watching it char. "Domenic?" Came a nervous whisper from the stairs. Domenic grinned with tears in his eyes as he turned around. His mother was already running towards him, her missing puzzle piece. "My baby! You came home!"

"Hello Ma, I missed you so much. I love you,"

"I love you, my son." She muttered in his ear, their embrace had a lot of passion, Domenic hadn't seen his mother in a long time and his letters were too expensive to send from Connecticut to Europe.

Domenic and his mother Elena walking arm in arm enjoying the scenery of their little village. The breeze wasn't as calm anymore, like waves in the ocean, this breeze brought in coldness and snow, a very different feeling to being lonely; it was comforting like pillows hitting against your face, still peaceful but passive-aggressive Snow really is the softest casket. Domenic took a deep breath and sighed, "frosty, fresh air-I miss it,"

"It's lovely isn't it," Elena responded, snowflakes now flourishing into her hair weaving themselves into her golden locks. "Unfortunately, this week isn't the week for peace and happiness,"

"And why is that?"

"Do you remember Mr Schneider, the tailor that lived two roads down. Well, he, unfortunately, passed two days ago due to heart failure and there is some drama around it as his daughter, Andraste is trying to get the police to listen to her; because supposedly his death conditions are strange and she thinks he was slaughtered."

"That's- very disappointing, um, you know what we shall do? I can pick some flowers and we can bring them over this evening, offer our condolences to his family. He was a nice lad."

The petals of the flowers were very bold standing out from the snow down below. The sound of feet stepping in snow following the mother-son couple as they stalked quietly in the snowy weather. When they got to the house of Mr Schneider it looked empty, nothing was around the house and looked like nothing in it. Just empty. Passing the flowers to his mother, he placed his finger on the doorbell and waited for it to ring. The woman behind the door was not who he remembered her to be, once bright red hair now faded and dry, amber-brown eyes now blue with tears. Her eyes were all puffy and red. From the door, you could already see dishes left around, blankets and cushions left on the floor most likely there for days. "Good evening," The woman smiled and said. "Oh! Come in come in my apologies,"

"Thank you, Ms Schneider, for letting us enjoy your home,"

"Nothing much to enjoy here," is said with a small chuckle, "please, please call me Andraste, thank you for the kind flowers Mrs Glücklich, and who might this be?"

"This beside me is my son Domenic, I believe you might have met him a while back. He's come home from America for the holidays,"

"God's name, it's Nic, I remember when we were wee we used to play together. Ah, nice to finally meet you again,"

"My pleasure, sorry about your father's death; he was a very nice, pleasurable man,"

"Thank you for your condolences, Mary can you maybe get us some tea please, thank you love." It was a fair-sized house, lots of windows, rooms and even a maid. It was the dream life. Something was wrong.