HOME | DD

Description
As soon as Kaitlin heard the door close, she crossed to the cupbaord and opened it. She waited stiffly -straining her ears until she heard that familiar sound of the steps on the stair case, the start of his car. All of the breath she had been holding in came out in a torrential sigh. Kaitlin thrust her hands into the broom closet and hastily pulled out her broom, dustpan, and apron.

Don't think. Don't think; just sweep. Don't remind yourself of everything he said. Don't...think.

With hurried fingers, she tied the apron strings and feverishly started brushing her broom over the dingy tiles of her apartment floor. All the corners, under the chairs, beneath the rugs.
Sweeping had always been Kaitlin's secret. She loved it. It calmed her all through her high school days when the insecurities ran high. It gave her steady feet after all those college party hangovers. It danced with her the night he asked her to marry him. It cradled her before she ever had someone to hold on to when lonely. Of course, Kaitlin never told anyone- but sweeping made her feel like she had a friend. She loved it. Now her broom moved meticulously. One long sweep. Another smooth sweep. Sweep sweep. Two staccato flicks of her wrist.

When she was a little girl, she would pretend to be a captive princess. She usually gave herself a romantic flowing name: Alana, Rosaline, Lorraine. Nothing like the boring name she had in this life. Those princesses always had loyal dogs or horses for pets, not like Kaitlin's sleepy Guinea Pig, Lily. A rodent couldn't exactly bark a distress signal or carry you away from danger. But she could always be a princess when she held a broom in her hands. Princess Lorraine: the troubled (yet hardworking) damsel fated to sweep kitchens until she fell into a deep sleep or was captured by an evil necromancer. Her royal highness would put on her mother's apron (which was covered with a pattern of red chili peppers and sported a large grease stain near the pocket). She would pause, sigh deeply for effect, and then start chirruping a little off-tune, hopefully cheery song. It wasn't really so bad when you were sweeping all the floors. Especially when you were the secret daughter of the King and Queen. Sweeping could fix anything, even being Kaitlin Greenewood, quietest 2nd grader in the whole school...

Kaitlin snapped back to the present. Age 23, hands clasped tightly, chili pepper apron around her waist. She looked down at the little neat pile of dust at her feet. Clenching her fists around the very ordinary broom, she felt the soft bare skin at the base of her ring finger- vulnerable against the handle. Oh empty empty finger! She was plain, quiet Kaitlin. She wasn't a princess at all. And although she had thought she had a prince, he had left her sweeping away in her stained apron. There was no necromancer, no dragon, no loyal pet. There was just a loomingly painful broken heart to conquer. And...she had to figure this one out all by herself. Herself and her ridiculous reliance on broomsticks.

If you were to glance through Ms. Greenewood's kitchen window, you would see a young woman bent over, drooping, and crying into the pile of dirt she had numbly swept up. You would see her shoulders shake and her trembling hands to her face. You would see a broken girl. Maybe, if you didn't believe in fairy tales, you would leave the window here, reminding yourself that happy endings aren't always guaranteed.
But the more hopeful observer lingers at the sill. They would see a young woman (perhaps a princess in disguise) stand up with difficulty and set her hands resolutely about the handle of her broom. You would see her royal chin lift, her graceful eyes dry. And if her window was open, you would hear a song start. It would be a shaky song at first, wobbling on the highest of notes. But by the time you turned away from the scene the refrain would ring out strong, following you as you walked away, leaving a princess to her story, her broom, and her self made happily ever after.

Description
As soon as Kaitlin heard the door close, she crossed to the cupbaord and opened it. She waited stiffly -straining her ears until she heard that familiar sound of the steps on the stair case, the start of his car. All of the breath she had been holding in came out in a torrential sigh. Kaitlin thrust her hands into the broom closet and hastily pulled out her broom, dustpan, and apron.

Don't think. Don't think; just sweep. Don't remind yourself of everything he said. Don't...think.

With hurried fingers, she tied the apron strings and feverishly started brushing her broom over the dingy tiles of her apartment floor. All the corners, under the chairs, beneath the rugs.
Sweeping had always been Kaitlin's secret. She loved it. It calmed her all through her high school days when the insecurities ran high. It gave her steady feet after all those college party hangovers. It danced with her the night he asked her to marry him. It cradled her before she ever had someone to hold on to when lonely. Of course, Kaitlin never told anyone- but sweeping made her feel like she had a friend. She loved it. Now her broom moved meticulously. One long sweep. Another smooth sweep. Sweep sweep. Two staccato flicks of her wrist.

When she was a little girl, she would pretend to be a captive princess. She usually gave herself a romantic flowing name: Alana, Rosaline, Lorraine. Nothing like the boring name she had in this life. Those princesses always had loyal dogs or horses for pets, not like Kaitlin's sleepy Guinea Pig, Lily. A rodent couldn't exactly bark a distress signal or carry you away from danger. But she could always be a princess when she held a broom in her hands. Princess Lorraine: the troubled (yet hardworking) damsel fated to sweep kitchens until she fell into a deep sleep or was captured by an evil necromancer. Her royal highness would put on her mother's apron (which was covered with a pattern of red chili peppers and sported a large grease stain near the pocket). She would pause, sigh deeply for effect, and then start chirruping a little off-tune, hopefully cheery song. It wasn't really so bad when you were sweeping all the floors. Especially when you were the secret daughter of the King and Queen. Sweeping could fix anything, even being Kaitlin Greenewood, quietest 2nd grader in the whole school...

Kaitlin snapped back to the present. Age 23, hands clasped tightly, chili pepper apron around her waist. She looked down at the little neat pile of dust at her feet. Clenching her fists around the very ordinary broom, she felt the soft bare skin at the base of her ring finger- vulnerable against the handle. Oh empty empty finger! She was plain, quiet Kaitlin. She wasn't a princess at all. And although she had thought she had a prince, he had left her sweeping away in her stained apron. There was no necromancer, no dragon, no loyal pet. There was just a loomingly painful broken heart to conquer. And...she had to figure this one out all by herself. Herself and her ridiculous reliance on broomsticks.

If you were to glance through Ms. Greenewood's kitchen window, you would see a young woman bent over, drooping, and crying into the pile of dirt she had numbly swept up. You would see her shoulders shake and her trembling hands to her face. You would see a broken girl. Maybe, if you didn't believe in fairy tales, you would leave the window here, reminding yourself that happy endings aren't always guaranteed.
But the more hopeful observer lingers at the sill. They would see a young woman (perhaps a princess in disguise) stand up with difficulty and set her hands resolutely about the handle of her broom. You would see her royal chin lift, her graceful eyes dry. And if her window was open, you would hear a song start. It would be a shaky song at first, wobbling on the highest of notes. But by the time you turned away from the scene the refrain would ring out strong, following you as you walked away, leaving a princess to her story, her broom, and her self made happily ever after.