After hours upon hours of driving over large and small hills on roads eerily absent of cars, Trent finally arrived at the snow-cloaked cabin. Instead of getting off the main road, he stopped to look at the house, examining it in a manner that a real estate agent might. The cabin was built upon a small hill, surrounded by coniferous trees dressed in white and appeared to be made of dark wood. It had a small porch lacking in any sort of furniture or decoration, making the building appear abandoned and uninhabited.

Sharon mentioned the cabin was likely built in the 1800s, but that just doesn’t seem likely.

Trent noticed that someone had recently shoveled the small driveway, and by the looks of it, he figured at some point in the early morning. That can’t be right. Maybe Sharon sent someone up here, one of the far-off neighbors? I guess it doesn’t really matter.

He pulled the car into the driveway and off of the main road that went around the base of the hill, and upon parking and turning off the car, he paused. I’m already starving and exhausted and I literally just got here. Good start to this vacation, I suppose. Letting out a long sigh, he inhaled a bit sharply and had a bit of a coughing fit for a few seconds.

Mother of Christ, I’m not asthmatic.

Once the coughing ceased, he zipped up the heavy brown jacket he was wearing and got out of the car to relieve the Tahoe of his belongings. Trent only brought the necessities: food, bedsheets, and spare clothes plus his toothbrush. For a moment he stared at the cabin, taking in the view, and then finished unpacking his effects.

Perfect. Everything is where it belongs. His worries about the place being chilly were quelled, as the place was comfortably warm. After he finished placing his stuff around the cabin, he sat down on a couch in the cramped living/dining room. Despite being exhausted, Trent decided napping wasn’t going to do much for him and he instead chose to recall where he had placed everything and do a mental rundown of the cabin’s interior. The living room, small as it was, had a decently-sized dining table that was pushed all the way to the wall on the right side when entering through the front door. There were two wooden armchairs, one tucked into a corner to the left of the kitchen doorway, and the other to the left of the front door. Both faced the center of the living room and only added to the cramped feel of the room. Due right of the front door was a small couch where Trent was sitting in at the moment. Across the couch was the fireplace, which is where his keys sat on the mantel.

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Between the two armchairs, there was a door to a bedroom much smaller than the living room, converted into a decent office by Sharon. On the wall Trent knew there was an office desk, missing its computer, and on the left side of the room was a large table with tons of art supplies neatly arranged on the far side of the table. To the left of the art table was a small closet, filled with even more supplies. Nothing in there belongs to me. I should check that room later.

The entrance to the small kitchen was perfectly parallel to the front door, making it easy to enter. The kitchen itself was complete with a fridge, a plastic waste bin, a dated gas stove, and yellowing wallpaper Sharon had left in. I hope she changes out that paper in the future. Trent had put the cooler next to the trashcan Sharon had put in, and already emptied the cooler’s contents into the fridge. Should eat something soon.

To the left of the kitchen was the magnificently small master bedroom, which happened to include a bathroom off to its side. The room had a queen bed far too large for the room, and Trent already outfitted the bed with the sheets he brought. His spare clothes, as well as some blankets that had come with the cabin, were in a semi-hidden linen closet on the left wall. The door to the closet matched the walls a little too well, and since it lacked a proper handle, the closet was difficult to spot. The door to the bathroom was to the left of the bed, which would be convenient for any midnight crises Trent might have. He ended up only adding his toothbrush to the bathroom since Sharon preemptively provided everything else he would need. This place is claustrophobia-inducing but functional. Should be a fun vacation here.

Alone.