Varro Collins, Nothing More

   Gazing upon the gloomy sky, Varro was struck by the darkness of the night, more ominous than smeared charcoal, small splashes of gold glittering here and there as if an artist had brazenly attempted to lighten it without aim. Smokey grey clouds deteriorate under the fluorescent silver beams of the moon as if they were shadows to be banished.

It took his breath away.

Despite being the strong lad he is, Varro has had many sleepless nights ever since his father vanished from sight, his last words being something on the lines of getting milk. His only assumption was that someone, or something, abducted his dad. With a bold sigh, the young boy leaned his elbows on the wooden desk by his window. He couldn't help but fiddle his fingers in worry. It has been about a week since he's been home alone, and the thought of being abandoned killed him inside.

The sound of wind brushing against the tall spruce trees in the forest nearby calmed him, bringing a smile to his face. It wasn't a forced smile, like the one he gives his grandmother when she says he's grown into a fine young man, but rather a genuine smile as he found his inner peace.

"Varro, you've been staring out the same window for hours. Come get some dessert while it's still warm." Varro's housekeeper, who Varro's father hired a week before his disappearance, gave the brown-haired fellow a soft, elegant smile. "I'm sure he'll turn up soon. As requested, I sent yet again, another search party for Mr. Collins- Er, your father." she corrected herself, giving her somewhat of a boss, a light pat on the back.

Although he felt off today, not having the impulse to move, nevertheless talk, Varro's deep brown eyes met with her light blue ones, which were nearly covered by her bright ginger bangs. "Thank you, Ms. Vellie." he smiled, standing up from the wooden chair, which once belonged to his deceased mother. Leaving the rather unorganized room, Varro grazed his fingertips over the spaceship his mother painted on the back of the chair frame.

His mind seemed to wander up until he took his seat by the dining table. Even then, all he felt he could do is look out the window. "Seven days, three hours, twenty minutes," Varro mumbled, mostly to himself. "He's all I got aside from you, Ms. Vellie. He wouldn't just ditch me like that."

"Var-" Cut off by a sudden sound, which conducted a mixture of metal, cat yowls, and grunts, Ms. Vellie closed her dainty mouth just as Varro stood from his seat.

"Dad?" The juvenile boy whispered under his breath, running from the room settled with scents of strawberries and chocolate.

Ms. Vellie was quick to tag along, also happy to hear her administrator is back. "Varro! Hold on, incautious child! You mustn't leave without a sweater on!" grabbing a navy-blue wool jacket from the hook by the door, the generous woman followed suit, shutting the ideally painted black door behind her.

She had a point, after all. It's mid-December, not to mention it's emitting snow outside. Her graceful blue dress, which flatters her artistic blue eyes, nearly got caught in the doorway. "Silly lad! Come, before your father misunderstands my method of supervision!" she warned, which was enough to make the younger boy frown, taking the blue sweater from her dawn-tinted, chilled hands.

"Thank you, Ms." giving her a grateful smile, Varro made his way past the snowman he and the superintendent built just this morning. Ms. Vellie was sure to follow him, a playful smile taking over her rosy cheeks. Not only was she sensitive to the cold, but she was in a dress. You'd figure the 1950s held a tad bit more warmth for the hard-working ladies.