Sandra stretched, opened her eyes, and looked around the room. It had been three days since she had been forced to move into her father’s guest room. She tried not to cling to the past. Don is trying, she thought, he really is.
The room had been freshly painted a creamy beige. All reference to her stepbrother had been taken away. Simple silk drapes adorned the only window. The wagon-wheel bunk beds had been replaced with a full size bed, a vintage vanity and a small stool. Sandra’s suitcases—only two of them—sat in the corner. The only items she had unpacked and hung in the closet were the two suits she might need for interviews. After all, she told herself, this is only temporary.
Suddenly she heard voices, really no more than a murmur, but enough to remind her it was time to start her day.
(Three word Wednesday—cling, murmur, taken.)