RoSalarian

Val woke up to the sound of an argument from the kitchen. “You didn’t even ask me. It’s my house, too, you know. I shouldn’t have to come home to surprises like this,” said a man’s voice. “What was I supposed to do? Her house burned down. She lost her father. She needed a bed and I gave her one,” Jane’s voice retorted. “She’s going to suspect—” “She isn’t. This shit passes by her every time. You’re too paranoid.” “You’re not paranoid enough, Jane. You practically flaunt it. You’re going to...

When Val stepped out of the car onto shaking, jelly legs, the first thing she noticed was the smell. It wasn’t the pleasant smoke of a fireplace or campfire. There was a chemical edge to it, the smell of preservatives that kept the wood from decay, the smell of clothes and books and records turned to ash. Nothing was left, not even the bricks of the chimney. It was charcoal, still damp from the fire hoses that had finally tamed it. She didn’t realize her legs had given out until she saw grass...

Rose is finally bleaching her roots.