Eli passes one of the rooms in Audrey’s old house, eyes pointed downwards as he swiftly brushes the broomstick against the floor, quickly collecting the dust and dirt from the wooden surface that’s accumulated during the pair's short stay. Who would have thought that after three days the house would already get this dirty? I just can’t understand why though. It’s not like we go outside, or walk through the door often enough the track outside’s filth inside. We don’t even open any windows! It’s as if the very walls of this house have a mission to make my life difficult! He can only sigh for the upteenth time that day and continue on with an unwilling expression. No matter how often he sweeps, the dirt just never seems to vanish.

Eli's limbs move to a silent rhythm as he absorbs himself in his work. His mind disconnects from his body, and his thoughts vanish. It's only in times like these that he can truly feel a bit of peace. His arms tense, and the broom is drawn towards him. He quietly lifts it up and carries it to a new place, setting it down with a blank expression before once again repeating the action. He moves through the rooms, opening the doors, ignoring the screaming of the hinges that cry out as if a choir of voices begging for release. His body moves as if in dance. He flies through bedroom after bedroom, sweeping away the dust and dirt in blissful solitude. His time at school gave him a similar feeling. The time spent solving math equations or breaking down sentences into logical structures was never wasted. The enjoyment never came from the solution itself, but rather the process of getting to that solution. He may have suffered greatly under the immense pressure his mother placed upon him, but he can't confidently say that school was an entirely bad experience. After spending such a long period of time within those walls, limiting his opinion in such a way seems wasteful.

Quickly a pile collects in the center of the hallway. A mixture of dirt, dust and random insulation from the decaying walls and ceiling form a small mountain. Despite having fixed most of the building during their arrival, a lot of the problems have to do with the house simply being too old. There’s also the fact that the best the both of them can do is simply remove the tiles and loose floorboards. They can’t actually renovate the place. There’s the regretful reality that they are still children after all, and their income is barely qualified to be called as such.

This “small” house is only called as such after comparing it to its neighbors. In reality, the building is capable of housing multiple families comfortably, with livable space in each room meaning families could bundle together should need be. There’s two bathrooms, one on the ground and first floor respectively, with three bedrooms on each floor surrounding the bathrooms. There’s extra space with the inclusion of the living room, which the front door opens directly into, and the kitchen, which is sectioned off by the living room. The stairs leading up the first floor are numerous, the structure taking place a little bit into the living room, facing the front door. And the kitchen is stocked with working appliances, including a rather dated oven and fridge. Regrettably, such appliances serve little use with the lack of electricity. Likely due the sudden departure of the residents, but many of the rooms remained furnished, with sofas and chairs already decorating the living room, and beds already filling the bedrooms. With the current state of the house, Eli can’t help but feel as if the place is in a haunted state of suspension, forgotten by the world, untouched by the present.

His eyes drift into the interior of one of the distant rooms as he shakes his tired arms free from their fatigue. In their lazy scan, they lock and become fixated on a rather strange object. Across the room, sitting on the nightstand placed to the left of the bed, is a small picture frame. The frame itself is made of some kind of metal, with many swirling etchings and patterns engraved into the face of the piece. The tarnished metal surrounds a scene of peace, where a small child is snuggled up against a muscular and cheerful gentleman. The picture seems to have been taken by the child, as her arm is extended, as if she’s trying to fit both her and the man in the camera together. She ultimately fails the task, as the man is partially cut off in the frame, with only the lower half of his face visible. The moment was a happy one, judging by the smiles that light up the two faces. The matching grins form similar dimples on the left sides of their cheeks, a mirrored expression.

Eli stares at the picture, a mixture of jealousy and sorrow surging within his chest. He doesn’t need to be told who the subjects of the photo are. With a squint, he looks closer at the faces of the two people. He guesses that Audrey was eight at the time. Her father, though showing signs of stress, seems rather young, perhaps late thirties. The man possessed a strong jawline and a charming smile that plays across his lips. The hand he has placed atop his daughter’s shoulder is calloused and cracked, with dirt deeply embedded into the skin, a clear sign of years of physical labor and hard work. Audrey’s own face had been circular, obvious baby fat giving her a very youthful look. With a cheerful, blissful expression of excitement spreading through the entirety of her being, she beams at the camera, as though to blind the present day Eli. Even without knowing the reality of her past, Eli would have been able to deduce that Audrey back then rarely saw her father, making this moment of cheerfulness a rare and joyous occasion. The fact that he's fully aware of the sad truth only makes his heart ache all the more. A feeling of pity wells up within him like a bubble.

He sets the broom and dustpan by the door before slowly entering the room, making sure not to trip over any of the children's toys that dot the floor. This must have been Audrey’s bedroom. I wonder if she’s been here since returning… Perhaps the memories of the past are too much in this room. Going by my own experiences, I was never able to enter Dad’s room, even after his death. I can scarcely imagine how painful this experience must be when you were so close to the one you lost, especially if you were so young at the time. Eli’s thoughts ripple with emotion as he loses himself in his musing.

He sighs as he allows his eyes to stray, taking in the interior of the bedroom in detail. The love Audrey’s dad had for his daughter is plain to see. Simply by looking at the numerous toys and the piles of school books it’s easy to tell that he spent what little money he had for the sake of his daughter. There are dolls and figures scattered about the floor, with old books being disorderly displayed on the waist high bookshelf. With the recent shortage of paper, they will probably sell for quite the pretty penny, not that he has any intention of destroying the blissful stillness of his friends past.

Looking away from the books, he takes in the rest of the room. The bedding is rather plain, but the sheets and pillows look clean, the layer of dust spread across them is unobtrusive and therefore goes unnoticed. The window opposite the door gives a rather nice view of the street, the height from the second story would have allowed Audrey to look downwards at the passing people while she stayed cooped up in the house doing work.

Having already explored and examined many of the other rooms in this house, Eli can say with a high degree of certainty that this room possesses the most personality. With the pastel pink walls and the art gallery of stickers, Eli knows that this is a place both Audrey and her father cared a lot about, and spent a lot of time in. If he were to better explain it, it’s almost as if the two worked on this room as a pet project. As if they implicitly understood that having a home filled with life would be too much for the two of them, they settled on a single room.

Eli shakes his head. There’s no reason to go around assigning meaning to things and places that might have none. This is a bedroom. A place where a young girl stored what few possessions she had. A place that a tired and hard working father struggled against time to fill. It’s as simple as that. Nothing more, nothing less.

As he turns around, Eli’s eyes linger on the photo, the two faces fitting comfortably within the frame. His eyes reflect a hint of desire. A hope that perhaps things will be better. A longing to one day possess such love himself. Such a careful expression coats his face, melting away the cold, tired mask that he has carried around so diligently. Within his faraway gaze, for the briefest of moments, a future, a plan, a thoughtful consideration dances through his eyes like a candle's flame. Then, just as quickly as it arrived, the expression vanishes, like ashes in the wind. Ridicule and pain. A weariness, a hopelessness, exertion and loneliness. To Eli, it’s only natural that he feels miserable. A lash of self-mockery slips from his lips as his face contorts into a cramped expression.

“Ha! To think I’ve become entangled with someone that once possessed what I’m incapable of acquiring. I suppose we're both people that the world can't help but taunt.”

Without another word, Eli pulls the heavy door shut, hearing a click as the slab of wood latches into place. He belatedly notices the lack of screaming. He notes how the hinges, despite their age, are missing the usual rust and erosion that he’s so used to. Shaking his head free from any distracting thoughts, he picks up the broom that he left by the door and finishes sweeping up the pile of dirt that he’s allowed to haphazardly sit in the center of the hallway. Ultimately, he chooses not to clean the bedroom. He will leave it as it is, preserved in a small bubble of peace. In a small bubble of time. His footsteps echo down the halls, heavy and lonely.