The clock ticked. Hannah waited. She sat down on the old beige couch, motionless and alone. Silently watching raindrops fall from the dull sky out the foggy window. The once green hills now seemingly gray were framed by the same pink dusty curtains that had been there since her youth. The mirror image of that same window revealing the gray fields was across the other wall. The empty fireplace between the two was filled with burned wood and dust. Empty for months now since the spring season had begun. There was the steady ticking of the wall clock counting the seconds that passed.
She pulled her knees up and rested her chin on top of them, staring out at the space in front of her. A small wooden coffee table stood in front of the couch. It had the same worn look that the rest of the room had. On it rested a yellow mug, half filled with coffee that had gone cold hours ago. Next to it sat a stack of magazines, newspapers, and other miscellaneous papers that had been gathering there for the last month. A few feet over was a jar of daisies, just starting to wilt around the edges. Underneath it all was a burgundy rug that had been there so long her eyes swept over without a second thought.
A sudden boom of thunder rattled overhead causing Hannah to jump. She let out a small sigh and with it the room seemed to let one out too. Slowly and deliberately, she stood up from the couch and stook careful steps over to the window. The floorboards creaked underneath her so loud it seemed as though they were screaming in the silence. But she continued over with heavy steps, to the window. She brushed the curtain aside slightly and peered out the glass. She looked up at the huge heavy clouds. Water was crashing down hard against the walkway just outside. She could see as the drops hit the ground with such force that they splashed up. Puddles were starting to form across the yard by the old oak tree, and the rest of the yard was looking less green and more brown. A sudden flash cracked across the sky and Hannah flinched. She took a step back and dropped the curtains, letting them fall back over the chipped molding. She quickly opened them again. The lightening, something she’d marveled as a child, still fascinated her. But it was already gone as quickly as it had come. She pulled the curtains shut again and dropped her hands at her side.
She glanced at the clock. It read 3:24. 6 more minutes. Possibly the last 6 minutes ever sitting on this couch. In this room. In this orphanage. Orphanage. She hated that word. Normal, everyday people hear that word and think of poor, sad children who will never be able to truly fulfill their dreams. Orphanage. A term often making normal people have feelings of guilt and pity. But for Hannah it means home. All it has ever meant is home. So why has she always wanted to leave so bad? Sitting there, at that moment, Hannah had a sudden feeling of sadness fall over. This place may not be anyone else’s definition of home, but for her this was the only home she’d ever known. She had seen so many kids walk in and out of those olds squeaky front doors. As for her, she had been there since day one. She had only once heard the story of when she arrived. The Orphanages overseer, Shannon, had told her just a few months ago. Hannah tried to visualize it in her mind. Shannon had said that my mother, fourteen years ago, had knocked on the doors of the orphanage after dark in late december. She had never given a reason as to why it was that she was giving up Hannah, only a few months old at the time. She just insisted that Hannah was safer with Shannon and that she’d be back someday.
Shannon just got the call last month. The call from her mother. She was coming back for Hannah.
Before the room had a chance to settle back to it’s dead silence the doorbell rang. And the moment was here.