Seren sighed, curling into a ball under the fluffy covers. Shifting against the soft sheets and pillow case. A soft hum of a heater kept lulling them in and out of sleep.

Seren’s eyes opened once they realized this wasn’t their bed. They sat up and took in their surroundings. No light came in through the window, only the warm light of a study light on an empty desk. The walls were painted a crisp white and all the furniture was cherrywood. The bedding was quilted with grays in different geometrical patterns. Seren pushed out from under it and hopped out of the bed.

Their bare feet touched the tightly woven rug, a dreamlike memory of peeling their socks off while sleeping came to them as an explanation. Seren ducked under the covers until they found their socks. Folding them together and putting them on the nightstand. They made the bed the best they could. Once finished, they tentatively peeked out of their door.

The hallway was silent, all the doors shut. They crept out of the room, feeling out of place in Mr. Asche’s house. Seren shut their door and slid down the hall. Hearing soft breathing from behind the powder blue door, and gentle snoring from behind the dark wood double doors by the stairs.

Seren crawled down the stairs, hearing the sound of movement somewhere on the first floor. They peeked through the bars of the staircase to see who was moving around. Mrs. Houper came up from the basement with a hamper of folded linens. She hummed quietly to herself until she chanced a look at the staircase and jumped out of her skin.

“Oh! Seren. You surprised me.” Mrs. Houper breathed and shifted the hamper onto her hip to free up her hand so she could feel her heart. “Just about gave me a heart attack.”

“Sorry,” Seren said quietly.

“That’s all right, dear.” Mrs. Houper shifted the hamper back into both hands. “Why don’t you come down here and give me a hand?”

“Okay,” Seren hopped down the stairs and followed Mrs. Houper into the sun room. She had the radio playing, but it didn’t sing, it spoke the news that was going around the city.

“Oh, dear. The Queen’s condition’s worsened.” Mrs. Houper sighed as she stared blindly at the radio. Taking the different linens out and stacking them. “Take these into the closet, left shelf.” Seren took the stack indicated and ran it to the closet to put away. They couldn’t make any sense of the radio’s buzzing sound. Whatever language it spoke, Mrs. Houper spoke it too, as she made faces at the noises while she put away the stacks and directed where Seren should put the laundry they were given.

“That’s more than enough of that.” Mrs. Houper snapped suddenly and turned the radio off. Seren returned from putting away the last stack and watched curiously.

“You’re up early.” Mrs. Houper said, picking up the now empty hamper and heading down for the laundry room again.

“So are you,” Seren said. Seeing the grandfather clock reading two in the morning.

“Couldn’t sleep, the storm was so bad last night I had to stay over too.” Mrs. Houper said sadly, “And I miss my family so much I figured if I wasn’t going to sleep, I might as well be productive.”

“I’m sorry.” Seren said, staying at the top of the basement stairs while Mrs. Houper creaked down the old boards.

“Well, the weather can’t be controlled.” Mrs Houper called up from the depths. “It is what it is, and all we can do is make the best of it.” She came up from the laundry room again.

“I bet you must be starving,” she said. Seren nodded, “c’mon then. Let’s get you something to eat.” Seren skipped after Mrs. Houper as they went into the kitchen.

If you stumble upon this narrative on Amazon, be aware that it has been stolen from Royal Road. Please report it.

“Kalyani will be in later for breakfast,” Mrs. Houper said. “For now, we have leftovers and I could make some cereal or toast.”

“That’s fine, I mean. Whatever is the easiest…” Seren said. Their stomach rumbled in protest and they quickly covered it with their arms.

“I’ll check the icebox then,” Mrs. Houper chuckled, walking into the kitchen. Seren stood in the middle of the tiled floor. Between the little eating area and the cooking area. Rocking back and forth and playing with their fingers behind their back.

“You know, I’ve noticed you moving about a lot.” Mrs. Houper said as she pulled a covered dish out of the icebox. “Not that it’s a bad thing, I just wonder if you’ve been seen by a doctor?”

“For moving?” Seren asked, breaking into giggles. “Aren’t I supposed to see the doctor if I stop moving?”

“Well, yes.” Mrs. Houper laughed. “I guess I didn’t phrase that correctly. Don’t worry about it, I’ll ask him when he wakes up.”

“He’s here too?” Seren asked.

“Yes, it was coming down really hard last night.” Mrs. Houper said. Turning the oven up and uncovering the dish. “Wasn’t safe to send anyone home. At least, anyone who’s home was farther than three houses down.”

“Oh,” Seren nodded. “Makes sense.” They rocked back and forth thoughtfully. While Mrs. Houper put the dish into the oven to warm up. To the best guess of Seren’s nose; the dish contained rice, something spicy and what their best guess was pork.

“Kalyani made curry last night. It’s a bit spicy, that’s all right isn’t it?” Mrs. Houper asked.

“Yeah, that’s fine.” Seren nodded. “Mrs. Houper?”

“Yes dear?”

“What did you mean when you said I should see a doctor for moving?” Seren asked.

“Well, let’s see.” Mrs. Houper knitted her face in concentration as she tried to come up with a way to describe what she was thinking of. “Everyone is different, right? Well some people are more different than others.”

“Like me cause I’m fae-touched right?” Seren asked.

“Sort of,” Mrs. Houper said, she took the kettle off the stove and filled it. “We’re all different, but there are some people. Like my little Nienke, who are built more different. She was seen by a doctor and we were told that she has what’s called Autism Spectrum Disorder. It means some parts of her operate differently than others.” She put the kettle on the stove to boil.

“Oh,” Seren said. Pausing in their rocking to walk on all the tiles of the kitchen in a pattern. “And you think I am too?”

“Well, that’s not my place to decide. But I do think you and Nienke have a lot in common.” Mrs. Houper said. Wiping her hands on her apron. “Would you like some tea?”

“Sure,” Seren said absently. Still thinking. “Is it bad?”

“The tea?”

“No the disorder thing,” Seren looked up and met Mrs. Houper’s eye for the first time since they’d crept down the stairs.

“No, honey.” Mrs. Houper said gently. “It’s just different. Like being fae-touched. It’s not bad, just different.” Seren nodded and went back to tracing the floor patterns. Letting their brain chew on this information and if it was something logged away in the recesses of their memory.

The morning continued with the quiet sounds of Mrs. Houper dishing up the leftovers and refilling their tea cups. Conversation turned around and around in simple circles. Reciting old stories from when Mrs. Houper was young. Seren swung their legs under them and danced in their chair. Interrupting every few minutes to comment.

Seren began to wear down after their early breakfast. Feeling uncomfortable with socialization. Mrs. Houper led them into the sitting room where she put on quiet music and introduced Seren to knitting. The music danced on as Seren watched Mrs. Houper tying yarn knots with sticks with open fascination.

“Would you like to learn?” Mrs. Houper said, keeping her voice low and level. A gesture that Seren found pleasantly comforting. They nodded and Mrs. Houper brought out a pair of wooden needles and some gray yarn. After a quick and basic tutorial, Seren was left to their own devices to knit indefinitely. The world vanishing away from them as they worked. Seren’s world consisted of only the twist and turn of the yarn and the soft clicking of the needles while somewhere very far away, a piano sang a soft lullaby.

In the blink of an eye, Seren had knit a simple scarf half as tall as they were. Mrs. Houper tried to teach them how to finish the project but Seren felt bile creeping up the back of their throat at her trying to interrupt them. They turned away and continued on and Mrs. Houper sat back, content to let Seren make the scarf however long they needed to. There was always time to learn later, when they were out of their trance.

Mrs. Houper continued her own project, listening to the radio. Her own flow state interrupted by the creaking of floor boards upstairs. She looked up to Seren’s dad walking down the stairs groggily and unsteadily.