This is Where We Talk Things Out by Caitlin Marceau

Author:Caitlin Marceau
Language: eng
Format: epub
Publisher: DarkLit Press
Published: 2022-07-07T00:00:00+00:00

“Your room, there’s a smell coming from it.”

“No there isn’t.”

Miller frowns. “Yes, there is. It’s gross.”

“Well, I don’t smell anything, so I wouldn’t worry about it.”

“Sylvie, it smells awful. You really can’t smell it?”

Her mother stops and halfheartedly sniffs the air. “I mean, now that you mention it, I guess there’s something a little funky.”

“It’s disgusting. It smells like death.”

“I don’t know, sweetie, maybe a raccoon died in the wall.”

“Ew. Shouldn’t we look for it and get rid of it?”

Her mother shrugs, and Miller is surprised by Sylvie’s uncharacteristically casual handling of the situation. “We’ll find it eventually.”

“You’ll find it eventually. I’m only here until tomorrow.”

Sylvie frowns, suddenly looking upset. “Just get dressed so we can go, okay?”

Miller nods and heads back downstairs to her room. Although she’s deeply unexcited about the prospect of dressing like her mother—who unironically dresses like it's still 1995—she's excited to get out of her sleepwear and get on with her weekend. She closes the door to her room behind her, throws the housecoat on the unmade bed, and opens the top drawer of the dresser.

Her heart stops. She closes the drawer.

She opens the next drawer, a pit forming in her stomach as she examines its contents.

It’s not her mother’s spare clothes in the dresser. It’s not even the clothing she left behind when she moved out with Florence after college.

It’s the same clothing she wore when she was just a kid, only bigger.

She picks up a pair of blue jeans and looks them over. They’re big enough to fit her, but they look like they could be made for a child, with bright pink flowers and white daisies embroidered down the side. They look like a pair she used to own when she was in kindergarten, only these ones have been hand stitched, the flowers clumsy and uneven. She riffles through the t-shirts, finding a collection of Disney princesses silk screened on Fruit of the Loom v-necks and likely thrifted at a Value Village. Even the socks and underwear that have been folded carefully leave her uneasy, with bright colours and childish patterns she’s much too old to wear.

Miller gets dressed and looks at herself in the mirror. For a moment, she feels like she’s not looking at herself, and is instead staring into one of the old family portraits hanging in the other room. The illusion is only broken when her mother calls to her from the kitchen, warning her that they’re wasting daylight.

Before she leaves her bedroom, Miller types up a text to Florence and hits send, already knowing it won’t go through.

Come get me. NOW.

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