I Amsterdam (Completed)

Chapter 9.3 - Emma

The city soon turned to towns, the houses to grass, and the cemented sidewalks to fences. The only thing that remained the same was the smooth road sailing past beneath us, so quick it was like we were travelling in time. Everything seemed to go faster when on a motorcycle than a car, and there was something more dangerous to it that only enhanced the excitement. The wind snatched my hair and blew it behind me, and I kept my grip around Brandon firm so that I wouldn't fall off.

Along the ride, I tried to imagine the environment without all the societal items, something I do whenever I hitch a long ride during my travels. I connected the two ends of meadows that were separated by the highway, and plucked the fences from the air. It was simpler and easier since I was in the countryside; sometimes, when I'm going past a city, I have no idea what the land used to be, whether it was a forest, meadow, or something else.

It took around 15 minutes when, to our left, I could spot the thin line of the ocean in the distance. Brandon then took a left turn onto a faint dirt path of loose dirt and rocky rumble, allowing us to face the ocean.

A quarter of a mile later, and he parked us beside a little cottage. It resembled the one I lived in during my first time in France, only more modern. There was already a truck parked underneath a small wooden ceiling that stretched from the front of the cottage, and beside it was the front door, a dark oak slab in the shape of a pentagon. Flowers lined the walkway to the entrance, and a window was placed within perfect level for my face to peer through.

Brandon took out his keys and opened the door. "After you," he said.

I stepped inside. The room was dark, only lit by the sunlight that traversed the big window opposite the door. Brandon switched on the lights, the movement making the keys in his hand jingle. The chandelier above a small coffee table directly in front of me flashed with electricity, illuminating the room. There were two sofas surrounding the right and farthest side of the table, with a TV on the left. Walking deeper into the room, there was a little kitchen to my right, adorned with small flowers and accessorized with a French door leading outside to a huge garden. To my left was a winding staircase, which creaked as I made my way up. Brandon followed close behind. "Keep your head low," he told me. "The ceiling isn't very high."

Upstairs was like an attic; its ceiling wasn't parallel to the floor, but slanted downwards to make the room take an overall triangular shape. The slopes stopped to meet walls perpendicular to the floor to provide room for several windows. Beds were placed facing two said windows, and a teddy bear rested on one of the beds. Besides that, there wasn't much else.

Brandon walked over to the teddy bear, gingerly picking it up. Its arms and legs hung lifelessly from its main body as it left the bed. "This was mine," Brandon remarked solemnly. "I used to sleep in this room with Hailey whenever we came to stay with our grandparents here. We used to come every summer, while our parents went on vacation, but now, our grandparents are living in Asia for a few years, so we don't anymore."

"What's her name?" I asked, referring to the teddy bear.

"His," Brandon corrected. "It's Teddy. Not very unique, but I felt fine with it being simple. I was only eight at the time I got it, anyways."

I walked over to the window, staring out at the ocean. "It's beautiful here," I said. My breath became shallow as I comprehended the ocean's enormity. How is it possible to cherish such moments like these? "Did you enjoy coming here?" I asked.

"Yeah. Very much. I loved time away from the city."

I smiled. "I can imagine."

"It wasn't this plain in here back then," Brandon asserted. "Hailey and I used to have this entire room painted with the most random of things. Our toys were scattered everywhere, and we refused to let anyone touch them."