See You Next Saturday

Dark Shadows and Light

Alex felt a wave of nervousness wash over her after Ezra mentioned his grandmother wanted to meet her. It wasn't like she hadn't been around parents or guardians before, but something about this meeting felt different. More significant.

This was someone who knew Ezra more than anyone else, his only known family. The importance of the moment wasn't lost on her, and she could feel the tension in her chest tightening. She wanted more than anything to make a great impression.

"Just a heads-up," he said, his voice tinged with humor. "Grandma Michaels can be a little...spicy, so don't take anything she says too seriously."

Alex managed a nod, trying to ignore the flutter of anxiety in her chest as he took her hand. His grip was warm, reassuring, but it did little to calm the jitters in her stomach.

Slowly, he led her through the small bedroom, his hand warm and reassuring in hers. Her heart pounded as she followed him out of the room and into the rest of the house.

The house was old, worn by years of use and filled with the scent of history and a life lived in quiet perseverance.

The walls, once painted a soft yellow, were now chipped and faded, revealing patches of the plaster beneath. The wooden floors creaked beneath their feet, adding to the feeling that this house had seen its fair share of life.

The furniture was sparse, yet each piece seemed to have a story, like the old armchair with a frayed blanket draped over it or the coffee table covered in magazines and loose sewing threads.

As they walked through the narrow hallway, the light grew softer, filtered through aged curtains that had seen better days. The house felt small, intimate, with little space to hide, but also a place where you could feel at home, where every corner held a story.

They stepped out onto a small porch, and Alex blinked against the sudden brightness. The midday sun cast long shadows across the uneven wooden planks, warming her skin as she followed Ezra outside.

The porch itself was simple, with a few mismatched chairs scattered around and a small table holding an ashtray that looked as though it had been there for decades.

On one side of the porch, Grandma Michaels sat in a well-worn rocking chair. Her posture was straight, her hands deftly working on a piece of fabric she was sewing. She didn't look up as they approached, but Alex could feel the sharpness of her attention, like a hawk surveying its territory.

Her body was angled toward an unkempt bush that seemed to have taken on a life of its own, with tangled branches reaching out in all directions and dry leaves clinging to them like the ghosts of seasons past.

Ezra gave Alex's hand a gentle squeeze before letting go, stepping forward with a cautious smile. "Grandma, this is Alex."

Grandma Michaels didn't glance up immediately. Her hands continued their rhythmic stitching, the needle piercing through the fabric with precision.

When she finally looked up, her eyes were sharp, discerning, and there was a flicker of something that Alex couldn't quite place—approval, maybe, but buried beneath layers of towering walls built through years of disappointment and discontentment.

"So, you're the girl who's got my grandson all twisted up in knots," she said, her voice laced with dry humor. Alex felt a nervous flutter in her chest, but she managed a shy smile. "Yes, ma'am," she replied nervously, taken aback by her words. What had Ezra told his Grandmother about her?