With a Little Reflection (Karny)

The hours didn't stack up like they use to. In the past few years she grew tired of the lives she observed come though her office, but in the past few months something began to change. The stories remained the same, but but in a different order. With each change in order she began to notice a pattern. While sitting through the countless cases she scribbled down notes placing not how she wanted them to evaluate themselves, but instead began trying to see in pen scribbles what she saw in memories and emotions.

Confidentiality kept everything bottled up in her head. She carried them home, but always kept the recounting of arguments, of lost loves, of chances never taken, of wanting understanding, and of not wanting understanding. They all gave her the reasons, but she needed to understand them better then they did. Each one of them gave her something to think about on her way from her office to her home.

The sun draped the clouds in an amber glow with afresh coat of pollution. Betty Yates lived in a gated community just on the cusp of the city. A lawn maintained by a service team parted to the right for a driveway. Inside of the house she spent the last three years with her husband of fifteen years whom she met in her last years of residency within a teaching hospital he visited after experiencing a work related injury as a contractor. With the necessary clearance and supervision she could further a relationship since she never gave him therapy, and after a year and a half they married.

A soft air hung around the hedges lining her walkway. The light graying of her brown hair picked up light from the glow of the setting sun, running down her scalp like the traces of electricity through the brain. Indented glass dipped into a mahogany door centered in the middle of the white brick home. With the creaking of the door she and her host of thousands stepped through the door.

As Jack made his way down the walk way towards the house. He stopped to stare at a tire swing in a yard. He never had a tire swing in the yard, his dad was a cruel man. Jack kept going, he started to whistle. He looked down at his boots the grease worn into them. Hard labor, a roughie not scared to get his hands dirty. He continued on, the sun beat down. The heat was almost unbearable in his Black jumpsuit, he felt as if he had been here before. He stopped and stared at the green house. The door was Red. Who in their right mind would paint the door red on a green house. Come to think of it His childhood home was green with a red door. But it was much more rundown then this. He continued up the Walk and stopped and looked at the adress. 510....

The same numbers that were on his house, stared him in the face. Coincidence, it was never this Hot where he was from, well the many places he was from. Jack traveled alot when he was a kid. Jack looked at the yard, pretty plain. Nobody really did anything with their yards anymore. He got the the steps of the house. He wiped the sweat from his Brow. He wanted to know if he was where he thought he was and not in an alternate dimension. Jack walked up the steps and knocked on the door.

She placed her casework on the kitchen table overlooking the tidy living room. The only sound in the house came from the hum of the refrigerator against the dirt laden wall it brushed up against. Catching her eye in the inaccessible crevice gave her some after work responsibilities to take her mind off of the day. Slowly she edged the appliance away, ushering the dust built up to descend to the dirt built up around the floor. The normal circulation of processes to clean ran through her head as she moved past the modernly upholstered kitchen oven and stove to get to the oak door pantry. As she pulled out the vacuum and pushed back some large containers of drinking water to grab the mop, a knocking came at the door. Maybe her husband forgot the garage door opener and left his keys.

Traipsing through the dining conjoining the kitchen to the entryway gave her a view of the street from the bay window at the opposing side through the bay window. She didn't see any car parked along the street, so either a package arrived or missionaries wanted to speak with her. As she came to the finely made oak door she pressed her finger against the rubber button in the middle of the lock to disengage the mechanism in the door. Light caressed the indents of the glass as the door slowly pulled away from the frame. "Hello?" She asked quaintly. "Is there something I can help you with?"

Jack looked at the woman that opened the door attractive, but was married. "Um yeah I was walking by...and I forgot what Street I am on???" Jack wasnt sure how to blatantly ask if this had been a Mutants home before Hers. Jack also wondered why there wasnt any kids toys in the yard...surely a woman this attractive would have no problem having kids. Another Question that Jack refused to ask. "You see I used to live in a green house with a Red door when I was a Kid, your probably thinking well there are lots of Green houses with Red doors..Thats when I noticed your Adress was 510. So was mine and that is what led me to your front step and to ask you that strange question" Jack wondered if she thought him weird with the mallets sheathed upon his back. But he didnt care..The Jumpsuit soaked with sweat. Where the hell was he that it was so hot? California right? He wasnt sure anymore..the heat had got him. Delusions he thought. As he awaited the woman's answer he lit a Ciggarette and looked around the front yard. The grass the birds the trees the air. trying to connect something with this house. He wanted to know more, even if it wasnt his house....it was intresting. Jack loved to learn as long as he could get into it. An as far as he was concerend he would like to learn more bout this house and this woman.