Trotting up onto the front porch I glance into the large picture window. I s
ee
a nice size living room that open
s
up into a large kitchen.
The living room
i
s done in a rich brown with beautiful hardwood floors, and there
are little touches of
green from pillows on the couch to the rugs on the floor even those polka dot curtains contained that same green. Along one wall s
e
t
s
two worn in brown leather recliners and a little side table. On the opposite wall
i
s a flat screen with two bookshelves filled to the brim on either side
, one containing books and the other DVDs
. In front of the window
there’s
a couch that matche
s
the recliners. The hardwood floor flow
s
into th
e kitchen but the walls in there
a
re a buttery yellow instead of the
brown and green
. With
my wolf sight I c
an
make out the back door
in the corner of the kitchen
and
I
c
an
see
it
’
s
un
locked. Hmm
,
what kind of person doesn’t lock their door
? Must be my lucky day
!
N
ow I can
take a closer look at the other rooms.
Leaping off the porch I hurr
y
around back. Using my mouth I
’m
able to twist the door handle open without having to shift. That
’
s a trick my father taught me as a kid and
it’s
definitely come in handy since I started shifting. I wipe my paws on the mat by the door so I won’t leave tracks then trot in. The scent
i
s so strong it
’
s like a punch in the gut. Taking a deep breath into my lungs
I let it fill and surround me. It ma
k
e
s me want to curl up right
here on the kitchen floor and never leave. I sh
a
k
e
my head trying to clear out the thought and walk fur
ther into the house. Crossing into the living room I stare at the bookshelf, it ha
s
an eclectic mix of biographies, psychology, fantasy, mysteries, and the classics. The person who live
s
here love
s
to read and their scent cl
i
ng
s
to every book.
The DVD shelves are a different story. The scent marker on them is so fai
n
t you’d question if they’ve ever been handled.
Beside
th
e bookshelf
i
s a hallway. The walls here
a
re covered in photographs. There
’
s a man holding a baby wrapped in a pink quilt in one. He
’
s smiling down at the baby with such pride on his face but his eyes h
o
ld
sadness
.
As I walk the hall I watch the girl grow
from picture to picture. In one
it
’
s clearly her first day of school and she
’
s clinging to her father’s hand for dear life. A few pictures down she’s a couple years older and she
’
s standing next to a lake holding up a catfish grinning from ear to ear showing where she
’
s missing her
two
front teeth. I
’m enjoying
watch
ing
her grow up
in photographs
from a kid to the
awkward
teen years and finally into a beautiful
woman
. From the picture that look
s
the most recent I’
ll
guess
she
i
s in her early
twenties. She
’
s sitting
between two men holding their hands in hers, one
i
s clearly
her father from
the earlier photos (he still h
o
ld
s
that sadness in his eyes) and
the other
i
s possibly an uncle though I don’t see a resemblance
.
There
are
no
photos
of her and her mother.
At that same end of the hall I reach her room. The walls
a
re painted a pale blue and
a
re bare except for
the quote
“In dreams and in love there are no impossibilities” scrolled above her full size bed in black paint. The bed itself
i
s unmade with the sheets and comforter twisted around each other at the end. On her night stand s
e
t
s
a worn copy of
The Notebook
and a pile of used tissues. I c
an
smell the salty te
ars on them and beg
i
n to worry about her happiness. I bl
o
w out a breath at myself
.
I
’m
worrying about a woman I’ve never met when she
’
s crying over
nothing more than
a
book.
Her
scent is making me crazy. In my 25 years I’ve never behaved this way about a woman.
Forcing myself out of her room I stroll to the next open door. It
’
s a tiny bathroom with not much to see. The last door in the hall
i
s closed so I use my handy little trick again. The room
’
s musty fr
om not being opened
in
awhile.
The bed
is made and there’
s a light layer of dust on the night stand. It
’
s clearly a man’s room, probably her fathers
.
I wonder where he
is.
He ha
s
more
pictures on his dresser. One
is
a senior picture with the name Bloom printed in the bottom corner, such a fitting name for her. Bloom
, Bloom Daniels
…
I let the
name roll around in my head. I can’t wait to shift back so I can feel how it rolls off my tongue. Strolling back out of the room I use my mouth to pull the door back closed, best to leave no sign someone
’
s
been
here.
I t
a
k
e
one more long deep breath to surround myself with her scent
before walking
out of her home. It
’
s time to find Bloom. I feel
I
need to make sure she is alright. I pick up her scent again in the driveway and follow it back towards the town. Right at the edge of the woods, just inside the city limits, I c
o
me across a small brick building. I clearly smell tomato and pepperoni so it must be a pizza place. For being such a small
building
, the parking lot
i
s packed. I ke
ep
to the tree line afraid of being s
een
and wait. I c
an
tell she
’
s in there
.
H
er s
cent
cl
i
ng
s
to the building. If I had clothes to change into I
’
d shift back to my human form and go in as a customer. But of course
,
there are no clothes around and I doubt the owner would appreciate a naked man strolling through his restaurant. That would break several health
code
violations. I chuckle in my mind thinking
of
how I
want
walk in there and sweep her off her feet. Emily
’
s forced me to watch one too many “chick flicks” with her. Next time I see
that sister of mine
I
’m
let
ting
her know her horrible choice in movies is seriously messing with my manly mind.
From now on it’s
going to be
action, horror, or none!
My ears prick up as a new sound c
o
me
s
to me. It
’
s as gentle as the breeze and seem
s
to stroke my mind. It t
a
k
es
me a moment to realize I’m hearing her thoughts.
I close my eyes
to
enjoy the feeling of her thoughts inside my head.
You will not cry! You will not cry! You will
NOT
cry! Geez will these people stop trying to console me. Can’t they see they’re only making this harder? I think it’s time for me to take my break. Ugh! I need some fresh air and less people around.
Her sadness hit
s
me
as soon as
she walk
s
out the back door. It
’
s hard enough to hear her worrying in her head but
now
I actually fe
el
it creep
ing
up into my fur. The feeling ma
k
e
s
my wolf restless and I ha
ve
to stop him from running over
to console her.
Thankfully a middle
-
aged man co
me
s
out to speak with her and
that
help
s
to distract my wolf enough that I
can
hold back the urge to run to her.
Hanging on to every word of their conversation
,
I f
i
nd out she
’s
lost her father too. It
causes
my heart
to
ache for my father and for the pain of her losing hers. It’s odd how I
’m
feel
ing
her emotions as if
they’re
mine. I’ve never met her father
and I
want to cry at the loss of him. When I watch this man, Billy, place his hand on her face I ha
ve
to hold back my growl. I c
an
tell he mean
s
her no harm, but my wolf
’
s angry at the man for touching her.
He itches
to be the one comforting her.
I listen as he trie
s
to sooth her and bec
o
me very grateful towards the man when he offer
s
to help clear out her
Dad
’s belongings. This Billy guy is family to her which makes him family to me. So no more growling at him and I’ll have to find a way to repay him for helping my Bloom when I couldn’t.
My Bloom, I like the sound of that.
He st
an
d
s
up
,
kindly help
s
her to her feet, and then he
’
s called back inside. She
leans against the building
staring at the woods and I long to be closer to her so I t
a
k
e
the chance and move
towards the thinning tree line. I s
ee
it in her eyes when she cat
ches
sight of me.
As much as I want to reveal myself to her
,
my
wolf
knows we need to hold off a little longer, so
I dash back in
to
the shadows before she
has
the chance to register what
she’
s
seen
. I listen to her
thoughts
.