eclecticmuses February
Experience is the name everyone gives to their mistakes. -- Oscar Wilde
When it came to the past, there was more she wished she could forget than she wanted to admit. It was moments like these, standing in the new house in Short Hills that brought those kinds of feelings back to the surface. Not ghosts, she knew, but feelings.
Mark was behind her somewhere, probably on the lawn judging from the echo of his voice. Stacy couldn’t tell, she really didn’t know. Her attention was focused elsewhere, on the emptiness of the room around her. Stark white on the walls, hard floors beneath her feet. Hardwood floors, that was good, not all of the new-
Oh, Stacy.
Shut up.
Her lips pressed together in a firm line, and after an indrawn breath the moment had passed. Those sorts of moments came and went with worrisome irregularity, and while they rooted her back to the ground and reality, not knowing when they’d strike was not welcome. It left her uncertain of herself, and she never felt that way.
Then again, she’d never been in love. Not before Greg. But that was over, the past was behind her, and that was where it had to stay.
Her life was now a fresh start. Whitewashed and blank, like the walls in front of her now. Not bland at all, but untouched. Something that could be molded and designed into whatever she wanted it to be. And even if it wasn’t quite what she had in mind, at least it was new.
At least she could try.