Empires...AI?

Shubble

 I hate editing. 

She was alone, she knew.

"Shelby."

She jerked around to find a bespectacled man with glasses and a receding hairline leaning over her.

His blue eyes were bright and inquisitive.

"Hello." 

Her voice shook with unanticipated emotion.

His expression shifted, as if noticing her reaction, and he bent closer to her.

"Are you all right?" he asked, that gentle voice of his tightening with concern.

"I'm fine."

It took considerable effort to keep her voice from quavering.

"I'm sorry to bother you."

"Please, come in."

The house had a Victorian flavor, with wood paneling on the walls and wainscoting in the corners, but the furnishings didn't compare to that in her childhood home.

Much has changed.

This was obviously the secondhand living room of the prior owner, and all the books had been given away by the woman.

They were stacked in heaps on the floor, and nearly all the furniture was sold at a garage sale.

She wished she'd had the presence of mind to bring her sweater, but she hadn't.

At this moment she didn't feel like being bundled up.

Her stomach was turning over.

Maybe it was a good thing that Mr. Montgomery hadn't stayed to talk; maybe he was a good guy and would understand her withdrawal.

"This must be Creek." (An AU where Shrub has a brother)

The old woman shuffled forward with a bony hand to shake Tim's hand.

A collie trotted over and nudged him, then kept nudging as if in annoyance.

They hugged and laughed easily.

"I'll get a basket so you can bring your groceries in," Creek said as he ushered her toward the kitchen.

"So nice to see you again."

"So sorry I didn't wait for you this morning," her father said, following them with two bulging grocery bags.

"Come on in," Mr. Montgomery said, gesturing.

Creek moved the shopping cart so Rachel could put her groceries inside.

Her father followed them in, her mother bringing up the rear.

The rooms smelled as she'd always known them-old and musty, dust thick in the air.

But then, she hadn't expected to see the dog.

The clump of gray, droopy ears that peeked out from under the folds of white fur reminded her of their dog, who had died three years ago.

But this dog was slimmer, thinner and paler.

Perhaps she was just remembering the one from years ago.

Not that she hadn't loved that dog.

And as a little girl, her father had explained that the old Alaskan had been dumped in front of his door.