Devil in Quarantine ~**FIRST HALF COMPLETE**~ Conclusion will be up in 3 days!

Day Two

Clara

After a night of tossing and turning, then finally having a nightmare, I finally drag my sorry behind out of bed at 4 A.M. and decide to head over to the cemetery to see Nana's resting place and bring her some flowers. I throw on some shorts and an old tank top and brush my teeth and hair before quietly creeping down my stairs and into my shed. I grab some bulbs I had saved to plant around her tombstone and a little shovel and watering can then make my way to my car. As I pull out of my yard I take a quick peek at my houseguest's window and ignore the strange feelings that stir within me while I think about the man sleeping there.

About five minutes later I pull up to the cemetery and make my way to my Nana's plot and a twinge of loneliness hits me hard in the chest. It has been a year and I have moved on with my life, but the house is so large for just me and I miss seeing her grumpy face reprimanding me for everything. My Nana wasn't that rose-cheeked smelled like lavender grandmothers like my friends had, but this no-nonsense woman who could put a grown man in his place with one look. Although we squabbled daily, and she gave me hell all the time, we did love each other. Now that she is gone, I am really all on my own with nobody to tell me how to mix the feed for the horses or tell me I'm trimming the sheep wrong.

I avoid laying eyes on the tombstone next to hers, the anger at the name resting on it making me clench the shovel in my hand. I dig up around my Nana's plot to place the bulbs in, fuming at why she would want to be buried by that man after what he had done. It was because of him I was the only one left in this world now. And for what?

I quickly cover up the bulbs and water them with the watering can I brought and place everything back in my car. Touching the tombstone one last time, I squeeze my eyes shut as tears brim my lids. I quickly jump in my car, hoping the distance will stop the flow but if anything as I keep driving, they continue to come.

I'm wiping at my eyes when I arrive back at the farm and see that Tristan's not only awake but having a coffee on my front porch swing. Make yourself at home, why don't you, I grumble to myself. Ignoring him, I bring my shovel and watering can to my shed. I start heading to the chicken coop to feed the chickens when he calls out. "Hey, why don't you come and eat breakfast first. I made us pancakes."

Pancakes do sound awesome, and how long has he been up for? Why is he being nice? Was it because there was a virus now infecting people and he thought he could die? I scoff at the thought. Tristan wouldn't be nice because of some virus. About to say no, I figure why not. When's the last time somebody made you pancakes? A year ago, a voice whispers. It would be wrong of me to let them go to waste.

"Pancakes sound great." Turning back to the house I follow him inside and the delicious smell of pancakes assaults my senses. Maybe there would be a good reason to have Tristan here for 2 weeks after all.