6. in which danny folds clean clothes

As Danny folded a warm towel, she thought of that birthday, and of her latest quandery, and of everything her grandfather had gotten her into.

“Sly old bastard,” she muttered to herself, dipping into the dryer for the last of her shirts.

When Danny had stepped back into South FL it was 11:16 on a school day. Danny hadn’t attended school on Earth in several years, although she did in fact have work in several hours.

The overwhelming normalcy of the apartment was both a shock and a comfort. She had spent several minutes simply lying on her back in bed, images of Drev’o and their darkened room in Saliy’a haunting her, and plagued by the remnants of her dream. The central A/C purred through the vents. She closed her eyes and ran her hands over the soft comforter. Though only several minutes had passed on Earth since she had left, to her it had been several months.

In a way, bookwalking reminded Danny of old fairy tales, ones in which young men and women wandered into otherworlds, only to return to the mortal realm to find that years had passed — or that, although they had wandered the fae realm for years, they had been missing only for moments. Danny generally spent weeks and months away from Earth. She returned when she needed to ground herself, or she missed Jett, or she felt homesick for modern day amenities and the mindless grind of South Florida life.

On a digital recorder beside her bed, she had left a message for herself: that it was 11:10, that Jett was at class and would be back that evening, that the laundry was in the dryer, and that she had work at 3.

Now, she gathered the warm laundry in her arms and carried it to the living room sofa, where she began to fold it.

From across the room, soft, ethereal music poured from her brother Jett’s computer. The screen was off and Jett was absent. The two of them shared a small apartment in the city they had grown up in. It was cozy, with a large corner sofa, floppy bean bag chairs, and soft carpet. They each had one computer, and shared a postage stamp TV in the living room, where they mainly watched movies with their friend B. Neither of them believed in cable. There was a small patio off of the living room. During the day, they left the curtains open so that sunlight streamed in through the sliding glass doors.

The smell of coffee and sausage lingered in the air, so she knew that one of them had been in the kitchen not too long ago. She couldn’t remember the last time she had eaten here. She paused and centered her thoughts on her stomach. She didn’t feel particularly hungry.


next page

Creative Commons License
Christie “Iamba” Bailey

Advertisements

~ by iamba on August 21, 2008.

2 Responses to “6. in which danny folds clean clothes”

  1. […] detergent, she thought of her grandfather, and of an empty island world, and of birthday cake. next page Christie “Iamba” […]

  2. […] detergent, she thought of her grandfather, and of an empty island world, and of birthday cake. next page Christie “Iamba” […]

Leave a Reply

Fill in your details below or click an icon to log in:

WordPress.com Logo

You are commenting using your WordPress.com account. Log Out / Change )

Twitter picture

You are commenting using your Twitter account. Log Out / Change )

Facebook photo

You are commenting using your Facebook account. Log Out / Change )

Google+ photo

You are commenting using your Google+ account. Log Out / Change )

Connecting to %s

 
%d bloggers like this: