House of Lights by Natalie Banks

Author:Natalie Banks [Banks, Natalie]
Language: eng
Format: epub
Publisher: Champion Books
Published: 2025-03-18T00:00:00+00:00

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CHAPTER 20

X

KATE

Everything that had previously seemed to be bonuses for living in River Falls now seemed to be the very things that held me prisoner. On the surface, everything about this place should have felt idyllic. The shops lining the streets could have been plucked straight from the pages of a fairytale. Their colonial-style fronts gleamed in the sun. Their windows dressed in neatly arranged displays meant to entice. Each time I stepped inside, the shopkeepers greeted me as if I were a cherished friend. Always smiling. Always cheerful. Always perfect. Yet their constant brightness felt off, like a picture overexposed by too much light. It wasn’t warmth; it was a performance.

The shops themselves were pristine to the point of sterility. Counters adorned with orderly stacks of carefully selected produce stood in place of true variety. Everything on offer was filtered through the same unseen gatekeepers, items sourced from the warehouse at the town’s edge. A place I’d never seen, only heard of. A place with its own entrance and rules, locked tightly behind the mayor’s approval.

At first, I convinced myself it was quaint, even charming. That the town's tidy simplicity was a balm to the chaos of the outside world. But the novelty had worn thin. The restrictions pressed against me like the weight of a closing door. The decisions here weren’t easier, they were hollow. My choices boiled down to which pre-approved version of life I could have. This blouse or that one? White bread or wheat? They weren’t decisions; they were breadcrumbs on a very narrow path.

Even shopping for groceries had become a strange, muted affair. The shelves brimmed with neatly arranged products in plain packaging stamped with the River Falls crest. The cheerful logos and bold colors of the brands I’d grown up with were gone, replaced by minimalist designs that all blended into one. The bread came in unmarked brown paper bags with scrawled handwriting, as if anonymity were part of the package.

The mayor insisted this was better. That we were better for it. Responsible. Community-minded. Free from the indulgence of excess. But as I pushed my cart through the aisles, I couldn’t shake the feeling that I was being boxed in. Caged, even. My cart overflowed with provisions, yet I felt stripped of something essential.

After paying, I loaded my reusable bags into the grocery cart and stepped into the parking lot. The sun bore down mercilessly, the remnants of the morning’s humidity burned away, leaving the air sharp and dry. The cold had receded, at least temporarily, and the warmth had come back with a vengeance. My sandals slapped against the pavement as I walked toward my golf cart.

For a moment, I paused, glancing back at the market. The hush of the lot pressed down on me. No distant engines. No murmured conversations. Not even a wayward bird call. Just the sound of my cart’s wheels creaking over the asphalt.

What was it about this place that demanded silence?

My fingers twitched against the handle of my cart, restless with unspoken questions.

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