Chapter 10

The kettle’s whistling is a sharp, high-pitched sound that pierces into Meredith’s ears and resounds through her brain. She doesn’t budge from her curled-up position on the couch as she slightly tilts her head in the direction of the kitchen to glare at the offending noise. She wishes she had a telekinetic power to be able to turn off the stove or, better still, shove it through the damn window.

The rays of sunlight filtering in through the windows are strong, just as they had been that morning, and the window panels are steaming from the heat. The surrounding environment is unusually quiet and lacks the habitual background sounds of birdcalls and scuttling of creepy crawlies. Even the low-key bustling of the suburbs seems to be dampened and missing the usual over-hyped energy in the air that’s carried across from the downtown city during weekends. The only thing undeterred about the grief of the day is the sky shining in all its ambient glory and the sun beaming dow