A Home

Betony Rue entered her room and quickly shut the door behind her. The living quarters were large and inviting. There was even a fireplace, though it was likely going to be some time before there would be call to use it. The dewy light of Spring came more brightly every day and with it came warmth. It streamed through the windows, inviting those it fell upon to take walks in the cool evening, to meet with friends in parks and smell the budding flowers.
Betony Rue Jasons closed the curtains and began unpacking.
It was a wonder how much space could be taken up a filled with the contents of two bags of luggage. The shelves and drawers filled clothes and several books. In what seemed like no time at all the room looked like Betony Rue could have been living there for years. But even with a clutter of things that were hers, the woman felt like an intruder, like she and her things were out of place. It felt almost like when she had first escaped. The sense that the world you walked in was not the one you belonged to.
But eventually you knew the streets, met the people, learned the sights and sounds of a place and it became home.
At least that's what Betony Rue kept telling her self would happen even when, after years, she still felt distanced from everything and everyone. Yes, she knew names, faces, habits, and personalities, but she felt no connection. She walked through them, not within.
Finishing, Betony Rue sat down in a chair she wasn't familiar with, at a desk she didn't yet know and began browsing the internet for information that might further her search for a brother who would likely be just as a stranger to her as the Earth was now.