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My new room is twice the size of the old one, maybe three

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My new room is twice the size of the old one, maybe three.

I hate it. It's too big. The walls are colored a striking white, and are lined with windows. Sunlight streams through the glass, leaving me squinting to see clearly. It's quiet here too. Our old house was right off a main road. There was constant noise, the clamor of engines or passerbys well into the early hours of the morning. This house is in the middle of suburbia–nothing but trees and neighbors a little ways in the distance.

Mom has immediately busied herself with unpacking, which doesn't surprise me. She has to be constantly doing something, or else she'll think and won't be able to do anything. When it first happened, I don't think I even saw her for a few weeks. I don't think she could bring herself to get out of bed. So I'll manage through her running boxes from the car to the house at hyper-speed, finding a new home for all of our old belongings.

I set the last of my boxes on the floor of my new room before wandering around the house in a daze, soon finding myself in the kitchen. Mom occupies the space around me, cluttering all of the emptiness with stuff. I study her from afar, noting all of the differences to her appearance. Her hair is pulled into a messy bun, unruly strands breaking free from every angle. Her roots have turned gray, tainting her blonde locks. My mom was once a beautiful woman, though I suppose time and grief and stress have taken a toll on her. There are deep lines all around her face now–her forehead, the corners of her eyes and lips. She used to have smile lines, though those wrinkles have since drooped downward. Mom frowns a lot.

"Do you want some help?" I offer, because I know that's what I'm supposed to do whilst playing the role of Happy, Perfectly Okay Daughter.

Mom subtly jumps when she glances up at me from across the room. She'd been too concentrated to be aware of my presence.

She forces a smile as she shakes her head. "No, I'm alright. Go set up your new room! I can't wait to see it," she says, because that is what a Happy, Perfectly Okay mother would say. Mom doesn't want to admit that we moved here because she had to run away. Instead, we are a mother and daughter duo who have opted for a fresh start in a pretty suburban house in a nice southern town. Because we wanted a change, not because we needed it.

I nod. I exit the room while Mom mumbles to herself something about which cupboard should hold the nice glasses, as if it really matters.

I stand in the doorway upon reaching my new room, merely staring. My entire life's belongings fit into exactly five boxes, and this room will undoubtedly hold more than enough.

I start by hanging up my clothes, because that seems easiest. By the time I'm done, the closet is still more than half empty. I'm sure my bed will take up some space, hopefully to make this new living situation of mine feel more homey, though Mom hired some dudes to pack all of the heavy stuff into the trailer we hauled all the way here and now I'm not exactly sure how the two of us will carry those items into the new house.

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