"Take care of the house for me, will you?"
His father's words painted the world around him in the hues of sorrow, hanging in the air as flames crackled around them. In his arms was a rapidly fading silhouette of the man he so admired, the man who raised him, the man who gave him all that he is now. There would be no reprieve for this loss.
As the figure disappeared in his arms, Jon frantically grasped at the empty space where his father used to be.
His surroundings shifted violently, morphing charred, splintered wood into great trees of immeasurable height. No light could penetrate the thick canopy above, and the forest floor he found himself sprinting through was about as bright as the darkest night. Yelling, shouting, chants of languages unknown filled the air, and the whizz of bullets haunted the cursed marathon for which he was now a participant.
A hand clasped his own, and the world around him stilled.
"Jon, wake up."
----------------------------------------
"Jon," A woman's voice yelled in his ear as he shook. Was shaken, rather. "Wake up, your tenants will be here soon."
He glanced up at the woman who woke him, tilting his head inch by inch as he struggled to break free from the clutches of sleep. The night before, he'd stayed awake to prepare the tenants' rooms and disregarded his need for sleep altogether. This and the relatively early start of his every day resulted in his current state, slumped atop his workshop's desk whilst cleaning his late father's old rifles.
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A pleasant fragrance wafted over him as he turned to face his rouser, and this smell was one he knew all too well.
"Emi," stated Jon with a few garbled grunts in the mix. "Why are you–"
"I'm the agency's representative, dummy. I'm here to greet them with you."
"Wait, what time is–"
"It's ten in the morning. Go get yourself cleaned up, you look like crap." She said, sitting across from Jon's table. Her head was cocked to the side as she rested her chin on one hand. Jon stared at Emi in confusion. "Come now, they'll be here in an hour."
His gaze was met only by her own, and they ended up locking eyes for a moment. Just looking at her like this brought back memories he both cherished and wished to forget. She was a bespectacled beauty, an unblemished face paired with long, flowing dark hair. She wasn't his to admire though, not anymore.
Still, he appreciated her company and friendship through the years, despite their unfortunate breakup. If it wasn't for her help, he wouldn't have been able to find tenants for this old house. He just hoped whoever she found would be bearable, as no good person had ever been crazy enough to rent a room somewhere this remote.
"I'll just wrap this up, go help yourself to some ice cream in the fridge."
"Oh shit, you have some?" She asked excitedly, already getting up from her seat.
"Yep, went to get some groceries yesterday," Jon said, stretching his limbs out as he stood from his seat. "Get the opened one, by the way. I want a bowl too."
"Okay!" Was all he heard before she ran off, slamming the fridge door in the distance.
He looked at the door, briefly pondering his friendship with Emi as she guzzled the ice cream tin, evidenced by the aggressive rustling he could hear all the way from the kitchen. Things were alright this way, too. His fridge would beg to differ, however, and he knew his wallet would suffer a similar fate if this kept up.
At least these new arrivals would ease the strain on his purse even by just a little.