This discomforting reality had Britney feeling uneasy, as she sat on the couch, lost in thought, her eyes impolitely fixed on the woman as she idly bit her lip.
The living room was dimly lit, the aged walls seemed to possess some form of sorcery, capable of absorbing the light emitted from the lamp, giving the room a gloomy, dim feeling. A sense of chilliness spread from the floor, intensifying the frigid feeling in Britney's heart.
"Why are you looking for him?"
The woman, dressed in a white nightgown, had her arms crossed as she looked down at Britney in a condescending manner.
"I have some important matters... Can I meet him?"
Just as Britney was about to move deeper into the house, the woman stepped forward, stopping her in her tracks.
"He's not home. Don't go in."
"Not home? Then where is he?"
"He's at work."
