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Death of a New Song: Part One

I have been working as a freelance writer for the past 2 years or so

Setting

somewhere-in-the-beginning

Home Sweet

Thursday, some minutes past 6 pm


Mrs. Robinson, a slightly built lady with short, dark brown hair and a worn-out white apron, walks out the door of an older urban house (A house in dire need of some repairs) and onto the front porch. She takes a deep breath and firmly rests her hands on her waist...

Rob!? She shouts, How many times must I...!?

'm coming, ma! He immediately cuts in upon sensing her frustration

Right now! She yells as the boy gets his ball from one of the other kids

Later guys... He groans.

He then hops onto the porch and quickly into the house; doing his best to avoid his mother's stern glare

Y'all go home now! She waves off the other kids as they slowly make their way into the streets, murmuring among themselves and repeatedly throwing glances at her

Mrs. Robinson then slowly approaches the door, her eyes still fixed on the kids until they disappear from her sight

Meanwhile, Rob (who has by this time tidily sorted his rugged sneakers and worn-out ball in a small wooden crate behind the front door) lazily surfs between channels; searching for anything worth watching

Hey! a shower first... and wake Granny when you're done... She instructs the young man before making her way into the kitchen: A small, seemingly recently modified layout between the front door and the living room - courtesy of Mrs. Robinson

The boy lays the remote on the couch and unenthusiastically makes his way to the bathroom

Hi, Granma, He greets the old lady as she slowly makes her way to the living room – Seemingly weak and tired

Robbie, what time is it? She inquires

Mrs. Robinson quickly comes to her mother’s aid upon hearing the two talking - Holding her hand, she slowly leads her into the living room

Robbie, get me my pills

You! Gesturing to her son, to the bathroom

I'm alright, Hannah! She rants; trying to free her arm from her daughter's aiding hand. I can walk by myself, you know!?

Ma! Why do you have to be so stubborn!? She rejoins; with a firm, but gentle grip on her mother's arm. Food is almost ready! You know gotta eat before you take your pills... She continues as she carefully helps her mother onto the couch.

Having conceded, Granma carefully sets her walking cane on the side of the couch and leans back, sinking into the couch for maximum comfort; her eyes now attending to whatever is showing on the television as Mrs. Robinson makes her way back to the kitchen.

Home

somewhere-in-the-beginning

Mr. Robinson


Barely does Mrs. Robinson enter the kitchen when Mr. Robinson enters through the front door

Save for his extravagant clothing; a colorful, leather jacket, design pair of rugged jeans, and a pair of rather expensive sneakers; there is nothing particularly exceptional about this man.

Hey... He attempts to exchange pleasantries - barely getting any response or attention from the lady of the house

For a second he thinks of giving it another try but decides against it. There is no point; he knows this

How're you feeling today, Ma? He queries his mother-in-law as he takes a seat on what was once, a very long time ago, a very fancy chair - Something between a Parsons chair and a Bergere.

Regardless, it is located a good distance from his mother-in-law and thus enough distance to hinder eye contact or a serious conversation

Fine! She mutters; her eyes to the television still - Clearly not interested in furthering the conversation either

Not more than 5 minutes pass (with the only sound in the room coming from the television) that Rob enters and makes a quick U-turn to his room upon catching a glimpse of his father.

© 2021 Kimani Maruge

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