By some small miracle, it seemed that in the drive from the University in the
north, they had missed the rain that had hit here not too long ago. Emma
frowned down at the pair of flats she'd bought months ago, which were
currently sinking into the mud beneath her feet. They'd been in good
condition until now. Of course, Emma thought. I can never have nice things
at home. And the rest of her shoes were in a box somewhere in the depths of
her mother's car. Lovely.
Grabbing her purse and the duffel bag that had shared floor space with her
feet, Emma daintily made her way to the door of the trailer, making a
concentrated, but useless effort to keep her shoes from getting any dirtier.
Outside the front door, Emma stuck her feet in a patch of damp weeds, a
final effort. Though it helped some, Emma knew the days of being able to
walk around in nice shoes were over. At least for the next few months.
With that, Emma turned to the front door and opened it. She was instantly
greeted by the wondrous odors of cat piss, dog shit, and again, cigarettes,
which all somehow managed to overpower the smell of whatever her uncle
was cooking in the kitchen to her right. Emma glanced down at her feet
again to see that she was inches away from standing in a shit stain. She
scrunched up her nose in disgust, and, on tiptoe, made her way further into
the trailer.
To get to her bedroom, in the back right corner of the trailer, she had to go
through the kitchen, where her uncle was cooking. As she passed, she smiled
and enthusiastically waved in his direction, an image of an overturned
dresser and a bruised ankle flashing through her mind. He waved back, and
Emma made to continue to her bedroom, but was stopped by the snouts of
two large black labs licking at her thighs. They were far too big for the
trailer, let alone Emma's patience. She gave a frustrated sigh, and went to
step around them, only to be stopped by a half a dozen cats eating away at a
plate of food.
When she finally made it to her bedroom door, she hastily slipped off her
damp flats, now caked in both mud, cat hair, and God knows what else, and
stepped onto the fuzzy purple rug that she'd bought to cover up the ugly grey
carpet beneath. Before last spring, this had been her grandmother's room, but
the wretched old woman had died of lung cancer, and the room had gone to
Emma. Before that, she'd had to share a room with her slob of a mother. And
though the room was just as rundown as the rest of the trailer, it was nice to