Today, Mother left. She's staying over at someone's funeral. I have the house to myself. Secrets can be revealed. Secrets hidden by my parents and by the vintage woman.
I go to my mother's room. It's not locked like it usually is. She left the door open. I walk inside. The room is dark. The lights won't turn on; there's an electricity shortage. Cameras. I sense it. They've been watching her. It's underneath the bed. The only place which glows in this dark. Its light, but bright enough to spot. Did she know? I don't care.
I walk to the small cupboard next to the bed. It's wooden. I can feels its soft surface. I open the cupboard. It's empty. What about the other? It's empty.
I open the large cupboard. It too is empty. Nothing is here. They took them. But who? My parents? Or Uncle's son?
. . .
I hear a thud on the door. It's not in here. From somewhere else. Downstairs. But we don't have a downstairs. I can hear its steps creaking from underneath and coming upstairs, slowly sneaking in.
Who is it? I go out to the kitchen and stand in the middle. No one is here. None of the kitchen equipments that were here ten minutes ago are here now. How did they take them away? Without a noise and without a hint? The creaking stopped. Was it them? I can only wait. Alone.