Heat. The kind that threatened to form small sweaty tears in the corners of ones eyes if they stood in one place for too long. That same sweat beating gently along her freckled brow- Charlie reaches up and brushes it and a stray strand of ginger hair away from her face; gray eyes scanning past her heat-worn father, his sweat-dampened shirt sticking to his neck and lower back from the sun's violence and the ever-so-perky real-estate agent with the bleached smile and manicured nails chit-chatting idly in the driveway of a very ugly house. At least, Charlotte thought it was ugly. Her gaze slid away, following the long, winding lines of skyline cutting across the horizon. Sunlight spilled over the desert in a slow golden wash, flattening everything into heat and dust and distance. McMansions rose in scattered clusters, stucco walls baking under the sky. Giant yucca plants clawed up from the earth like they were trying to leave it. They had been house hunting for what felt like days.. Charlotte wasn't a fan of the dirt; not this dirt, no. The wet lush dirt, the one that still had water trapped deep down in its sediment; not this. . . Wasteland. Large mountains trapped the city in what felt like a bowl and overcasting long shadows once the sun hit a particular spot in the sky; almost drowned out by the noise of the airplanes ascending and descending from a port nearby. Billboards advertising animatronics and family activities and telephone poles with long metal limbs stretched out for what looked like miles, a truly liminal space if she looked at it sideways. She wanted to say she hated it. Wanted to kick her heels into the dirt and protest with every ounce of her being that being in Hurricane, Utah was probably the worst decision on the planet-- the weather was almost unbearably warm and it was only March, a stark contrasting difference to the humid chill of Tennessee she had grown so used to. But suddenly turning on a dime and transforming into an unagreeable monster would probably put her father into a coma- So Charlotte opted for disdainfully shaking her head at every house they'd come across. Hoping he would get the message...
For weeks now, since that stupid convention, they had been puttering around Hurricane looking for a new place to live, to be closer to the new project her father and that… Sickeningly weird man were working on. Charlie turned back now, her father seemingly exasperated and exhausted at this whole house prospect; if only it were easier, she thought, absently kicking the pavement beneath her feet. "I liked the one on Swallows Nest lane best." She finally spoke, and Henry's head snapped to attention, nodding tentatively and mulling it over as quick as a jackrabbit on a hot skillet. Maybe it would be better in the suburbs.
