One girl in... her room.

Grace Pickering bent over and pulled all the wadded tank tops out of her sprawled-open gray suitcase. Seperating them one-by-one, her favorite black and lace trimmed blouse blew a whiff of his house into her nose. She stopped. She scanned her eyes slowly to the left down the hallway, hunting for body movement. Grace's uneasy eyes floated back to the tank she caressed inbetween her fingers. She curled the shirt into face-- the smell deep into her heart.

Staring around her room, she breathed heavy, folding routinely, without thinking. Her arms moving back and forth. Up and down. Ten different colored tops held different memories. But they were each drowned with the same smell. The smell of a house. The scent of a man.

His scent annoyed her. The perfect mix of rain fresh laundry detergent and lavendar lotion-- the secret recipe that had kept Grace guessing for years. She had also convinced herself his freckles had an aroma. Cotton, maybe.

Grace starred at the pile of clothes. She placed the tanks into the top shelf of her cabinet, his aroma hitting her eyes. Her tongue. Coughing, disgusted of how his perfume possessed her, she threw her work into the white clothes hamper.

The bright red walls shined as the morning sun sneaked through the half closed blinds. She sat on the hamper, testing its plastic strength against her 5'7 frame. Her roomed used to be yellow. But then again, much of her life had changed. She used to swear she'd never move back into that old room. But there she sat, surveying her old room; a blanketed floor of shorts, skirts, dresses, sandals, tennis shoes, dirty socks, mascara and powder; power bars, empty water bottles, paper, pens-- her favorite teddy bear.

"I'd love to burn this place down," Grace huffed.

Her white cat Mikey observed her from his spot on the bed. He meowed back in response.

"Yea," she smirked. "You can strike the match."

She began laughing as the hamper gave way, bouncing her into the middle of the floor. Mikey jumped to Grace's feet, then into her suitcase. He meowed again.

"Okay," Grace chuckled. "Back to work."

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Grace Pickering and Mark Stocktan are fictional characters crafted by Megan Blevins. Read previous posts to catch up on their story. Enjoy, Mb