Once again, I’m projected into my memories, this time with me standing in my parent’s study. Confused, I look around the familiar surroundings and breathed in, my knees almost buckling as the scent of roses assault my nose.
This was always the scent that greeted me whenever I came in here, my mother spent most of her time in this study so her strong perfume always lingered in the air.
Despondent, I walk closer to the large wooden desk situated in the middle of the room, large glass windows showcasing the view of the busy streets of New York down below. A white chair is pushed into the desk, black fur carpet covering the floor as the light blue walls are covered with landscape paintings.
Moving to the other side of her desk, I settle on her chair and wait. One minute everything seems almost normal, and then the next a loud explosion goes off.