The Waiting Room
Gus glanced around the room. It didn’t seem like a space decorated by a teenage girl.
The walls were blue, the color dark and needing a touchup. Her bed seemed like it was plucked out of a hotel, the sheets tugged tight and ironed with an unsettling perfection. On the wall was a picture. It was an ocean during a storm, waves crashing high and meeting the lightning. It stopped there, the painting not continuing and letting them know what the explosion caused. In the corner of the painting was a group of three. They seemed tired, staring at the shattered world without attempting to run.
“Louise, there is food in the fridge. I won't be back until two this afternoon. If you need to eat without me, that's fine, don’t wait up…”
Gus turned back to the girl, noticing the tears slipping down her cheeks. She took a step Forward. She knew this girl, she knew her name.
“Louise,” Gus breathed out, letting the word sit on her tongue. Louise had her blue coat.
A panic ran through her when their eyes finally locked. There was no shock or fear on the girl’s face, her sadness now gone.
“You’re not supposed to be here.”