IZABEL
Izabel paused to flex her aching hands. She looked over at the window, where the
sky had gone black. She bent over the keyboard again.
“Lily? Lily, where are you?”
I could hear Monica calling from the entryway and knew by her halting steps that
she was moving cautiously through the house.
I have no doubt she was shocked by what she saw. Anyone would have been. Everywhere
was chaos: furniture on its side, half-empty food containers mixed with knick-knacks,
and pillows with stuffing oozing out of their seams. It looked like an intruder had
ransacked the house, but anyone who knew the house like Monica did could do a quick
inventory and notice that valuable things were still in the room. Silver candlesticks
lay on their side. My own Walkman sat in the middle of a cup-covered
