14 | In Which She Leaves Home

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After locking up the shop Lydia and I took the fifteen minute walk to Farmer Francis' farm

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After locking up the shop Lydia and I took the fifteen minute walk to Farmer Francis' farm.

“You know after Mike left Francis and I started missing you,” Lydia started and shifted the black shawl higher up her shoulders. It was cold out and I was grateful for my hoodie.


“Of course! We would reminisce about how you used to help us count our chickens and how you would scour the entire town if anyone of them went missing.”

I smiled at the memory of me with an and smoking pipe pretending to be Sherlock Holmes while I looked for a runaway chicken. I usually found it every time.

“Why did you stop being the detective?” she looked at me in the fading light of the sun.

“Oh that's easy, my deputy quit on me,” I stated matter-of-factly.

She laughed.

“He discovered Harry Potter and suddenly an old dude with a pipe wasn't as interesting anymore.”

We got to a lone building on the same piece of land as Lydia's house and farm. She unlocked the door and I stepped inside.

It was a fairly large living room with only one door leading to the bathroom. It was painted a comely white color and even had a few paintings on the wall. The faded light of dusk filtered in in slits through the louvers.

“This looks great Lydia, are you sure?”

“Of course dear,” she handed me the keys.

“It'll be temporary, I promise,” I assured.

“Take your time, dear, please.”

As I walked home, for the first time since I got here things started looking up.

“I'm moving out,” I announced as soon as I got home.

My mom and Lloyd were in the kitchen and they looked at each other before they regarded me.

“Why?” Lloyd asked. “What's wrong with this house?”

“Um, you're both here and I kinda need my freedom.”

“You didn't seem to mind that two days ago,” my mom folded her hands.

“The fact that you believe that shows just how deluded you are.”

I left both of them and headed up to my room. I looked around at the room I'd grown up in and realized how much I'd changed.

“Honestly Denise, I don't know why you keep doing this,” my mother said behind me.

I got my duffel bag out. “It is what it is, mom.”

“What is so wrong with staying with me?”

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