One Attempt #1
- Demi’s POV -
Her home was quaint. A one-bedroom, one-bathroom box painted a shade of blue-gray that matched the sky during a treacherous downpour. A fresh coat of white trim and some tiny shrubs planted on either side of the front steps brought a cozy, welcoming feeling to the otherwise stormy atmosphere. When one of those tiny shrubs was close enough to touch, I crouched low enough to find the small pile of landscape rocks. Perhaps they were left over from the previous owner’s garden. Or maybe they were tossed into the yard by some annoying kid with neglectful parents. Could a bird have dropped them while scavenging for items to build a nest with? Regardless of how they arrived in her yard, her landlord was either too careless or too lazy to remove them. Overturning the rocks revealed a key, dulled by dirt and mother nature.
“It’s the perfect place to hide a spare key,” she had told me, her smile too wide for someone who had dirt wedged beneath her nails.
“I thought we were supposed to be planting flowers right now,” I teased her like I always did when she would stray away from the topic at hand. She was distractful to a fault. At least, that’s how she described her easily distracted mind - faulty. To me, she had no faults.
Her brown eyes rolled towards the sky. “Yes, I know. But think about this for a second. Really. No creepy guy who is hellbent on murdering me is going to notice these rocks. The bush is too overgrown for them to be noticed.”
“Unless the dude who wants to murder you is crouched down like we are right now.”
“Which no sane murderer would be.”
I snickered at her choice of words. “A murderer can’t be sane, Sel.”
“Speaking from experience, Lovato?” She stuck her tongue out at me after she asked, revealing a tiny silver stud. “Should I be worried that my girlfriend is a psychopath?”
With the front door locked behind me and the key left outside, I reacquainted myself with the building that I had once called home.
