Dysphoria

Trouble

I knew what she had implied. "In my blood" this comment was troubling. The comment was directed towards my mother, who in her youth was out of the ordinary and yet advanced for her age. She had fallen victim to the poison called 'young love.'At just the age of twenty she and my father married. Anyone in town could see they were clearly entangled in "forever." They had both grown up in East Low so I suppose it was only a matter of time before they met and began to ask themselves. "Where better to raise a family?"

And so the two bought a sweet little house on Elm street. Only a block from the elementary and across the way from HazelNut diner. They settled and began making it 'home sweet home.' Red poppies and pink tulips growing in baskets by the windows and even a brand new cradle. Mrs. Evans says it was always on display in the open window, left that way to let in the sun and bring in the crisp spring breeze. It wasn't long before a third was brought into the equation. One to share that love with.

My father unfortunately had decided he simply couldn't love an extra, so he left. Everyone understood his mistake. He had left his wife and child, everyone saw it clear as day. Everyone but my mother. Still blinded by love she did the only thing she knew how to. Search. She had come to some conclusions, only to be met with more questions. By the time I was eleven years old she had driven herself mad. When Mrs. Evans had asked me "what illness took her?" I answered. "We don't know" but really I knew the answer. The illness that took her was none other than heartbreak..

Search. My mother had searched her whole life, she was a detective in East Low.

She worked alongside Sheriff Pete who couldn't keep her at his side for long, she was spewing with curiosity and a yearning to solve the world's mysteries. She even helped solve a handful of cases that made it into city newspapers. She was so proud that she cut out the clippings of the articles and framed them and hung them. My mother loved this place and never thought to leave it, the only difference was the town loved her too.

I always took comfort in her work, even on nights she ran late I never thought she was hurt or worse. I took comfort in knowing she was a town hero. And knew if I was ever to be taken or become lost..she'd never stop searching for me. I shook my head and returned to the moment at hand. Mr. Miller had to have been last to be with Brea, so I had to go talk to him if I wanted answers, I had no interest in entangling myself in such a spider web.

However... I felt almost obligated to see it through. Perhaps I could help them bring Brea home? I didn't want to play detective. I am no professional, I'm only Ben Newman. Wouldn't hurt to try nonetheless. And I cared for Brea, she would want me to look for her..right? I ordered a tartarian cherry pie and set on my way. I had never been good with directions, which is why I was grateful every house was different. I didn't have to remember a street, just a house color or some kind of particular feature. The Miller house was the easiest to spot because it was the largest.

A grand white house with gold trim on every window, rose bushes at every side, and lush green grass that almost looked plastic. The Miller house was indeed a sight to see, I hadn't set foot inside the house itself since I was nine. That's mainly because Mrs. Miller had a deep detest for dirt. It's no wonder she only had one child..Once I arrived I knocked promptly. The door was opened not long after by Mrs. Miller. She looked weary and in constant dismay. This concerned me.I held up the boxed pie and smiled as friendly as possible.

"May I come in?" I dusted my shoes on the welcome mat outside. She stepped aside silently and nodded her head, I walked in and scanned the room. It was just as I remembered it, even the grand piano hadn't moved an inch. "I brought pie" I spoke, holding it up again.

" Thank you " she forced a smile while taking it to the kitchen.

"Apple?" she asked.

"Tartarian Cherry actually"