Cain (installment #2)

Dec 25, 2007 - 23:20 PM PST

Heavy boots thudded their way up the front steps to a meager and terribly pallid house. The dull white paint was worn and flaking off in most places. Shutters hung abandoned alongside the windows that were sealed shut and dark with blankets nailed up against them to keep the cold out.
A tall tan woman jangled her keys in the lock and turned the old brass knob to open the door. She slid the bag that had been propped on her hip inside and used her feet and legs to block a small grey cat from escaping the warmth of the squat building.

“Oh no you don’t Greyling!”, she chastised.

She picked the kitten up by its scruff and held it close to her chest as a gust of wind threw open the door. Stomping snow off of her feet she hurried inside. The woman struggled with one arm against the door, forcing her whole weight upon it until the latch and spindle clicked shut. She dead-bolted the frame and placed Greyling down at her feet. A small puddle of murk had already begun to form at the entryway. Greyling mewed mercilessly and wound its body around her ankles. Its dainty frame lithely avoided the water.
The woman shrugged out of her winter jacket and unwrapped her scarf from around her neck. Her face became flush, darkening her beige skin, as blood rushed to the tips of her ears and nose. She placed her outerwear garments over the back of a chair in the foyer and steadied herself as she tugged off her shoes.
The inside of the house was noticeably warmer, but the woman still shivered as she wadded her damp socks into her hand and her bare feet met the floor. She gathered up the bag by the entrance and continued through the living room into the kitchen. White walls were separated cleanly by a black stripe about two and a half inches thick that made its way around the entirety of the room at chest level. There was a slider door to the left, perpendicular to the opening from where the woman had entered.
A square island with rounded edges was centered with three barstools closest to the living room and a stove set into it facing the front of the house. Along that wall ran cabinets with black marble counter tops, holding a large sink with a window placed squarely above that. Where most people would decorate with bright colors hung a plain black curtain, blocking the brilliant light from the winterland from coming in.
A dishwasher separated the sink on the left from a small side pantry that occupied one fifth of the kitchen in a backwards ‘L’ shape that stopped abruptly, seven feet before reaching the refrigerator. Cupboards lined the wall on the bottom and top before reaching the distance to the slider door. A microwave took a chunk out of the storage space above the counter where a full-length cupboard would’ve been and a metallic silver vent occupied the space above that.
Flipping on a light she set the contents of the sack one-by-one on the cold marble surface: Plastic-wrapped and rubber-band heads of broccoli, a small flimsy bag of four unripe tomatoes, a cylindrical cardboard container of oatmeal, pre-packaged Portabella mushrooms, two loaves of freshly-baked bread in wax paper, individually-wrapped slices of processed cheese, and three cans of cat food.
Greyling whined and pressed its body up against the bottom cupboards, trying as it might to get the woman’s attention. The light bronze woman put away the non-perishables in the cupboards above the counter, filled the breadbox and deposited the rest of the groceries into the fridge. She rummaged through the drawer closest to the refrigerator and produced a can opener. Her long legs carried her to the other side of the kitchen where she rinsed off and methodically opened the cans as she hummed the theme music to a show she used to watch when she was younger.
Greyling pounced on the wet food with ravenous hunger as the woman placed a small dish on the floor. It grabbed a chunk of chicken the size of the tip of the woman’s finger between its teeth and swallowed it without chewing.

“You silly animal”, the woman laughed as she scratched the kitten’s ear.

“Eats like you use to when first I met you” a voice came from the kitchen door.

The woman tensed. Every muscle in her body screamed and within three seconds she was pressed up against the man, a baselard dangerously close to his neck.

“Well that’s a warm greeting for a friend”, the man managed to muffle from a mouth that was pressed firmly against the wall.

Doubt flickered in the woman’s eyes and she spun him around to see his face, using her forearm to crush his Adams apple. Blood trickle from his slender nose. Thick black brows matched the curly hair that toppled over his head. His blue eyes smiled. She released him.

“I see you’re still as cautious as ever”, he breathed shortly, rubbing the blood from his face, “Glad to know you haven’t lost your edge.”

The woman placed the flat of the blade in the back of her pants and smirked.

“It’s been a long time”, her velvety voice brushed the air.

“Too long I’m afraid”, he reached up and touched her cheek, “I’ve missed you Cain.”