Again, Electra is standing in front of a door. A lifeless object that seems to make her forget how to breathe. It isn't unnatural if you know who is behind the door.
She breathes as her hand grasps the oval-shaped brass knocker. Firmly gripping it, she lifts the heavy metal and lets it fall. The metal slams against the door, announcing her presence and increasing the beat of her heart.
She lifts the knocker again and slams it against the door- a second knock- before she releases the knocker.
Idly, she looks around as she waits. Nothing has changed at her father's house. The front porch is still as pristine as ever. The comfortable swing sways in response to the gentle breeze. Potted plants still lined the corners of the porch, their flowers fresh and colorful.
She turns her attention
