#then 7

Anna knew she couldn’t really say goodbye to May and George, but she wished she could. She tried to do so in her own way. She stayed in haunting mode for most of the day; she folded napkins and put them in a box when May and George were out of the room. She swept floors and checked under furniture for lost items (May and George weren’t interested in taking any of the ugly furniture that the house came with, so it remained in the third floor sitting room). She put trash into bins and ensured that the piles of boxes were all labeled (she tried her best to imitate Max’s handwriting, and she thought she did a good job).

By the end of the day, she was almost as worn out as the family was. She lay flat on her back in the center of the living room — a risky move, considering she really didn’t want to be stepped on, but nobody was really interested in this room anymore. It was dead silent. No fire, no radio, closed windows. This is what it’ll be like when they’re gone, Anna thought. She shook her head. She wished she would stop thinking about it.