For some strange reason, lately, Cyrus had been sinking into his work and had actually been enjoying it. He didn’t have to worry so much about going home late although it was unfair on Rhea. He was working hard and enjoying every single minute of it. He understood why his grandmother loved ragging on people as much as she did. You did get a fair kick out of it and you could never be bored.
But that was earlier. Now, with a spring in his step, Cyrus was making his way home. His trusted satchel containing notepads, quills and his camera was slung over his shoulders and a pint of milk was in his right hand. The road was quiet and the Muggles were going about their daily lives; spying on their neighbours and such. The old lady down the street was a good friend of Cryrus’ – she loved to gossip – and he lapped up the attention she gave him.
He turned down their drive and opened the gate. He walked up the path, remembering to kick the gate shut again, and stepped onto the porch. He took his keys out of the back pocket of his jeans and pressed the key into the lock. He twisted it anti-clockwise twice and clock-wise once. The door clicked and Cyrus pushed it open. He stepped inside, took the key from the lock and wiped his feet on the mat by the door.
“Rhea? Sweetheart I’m home!” He called.
by Rhea Belacqua Wed Sep 01, 2010 11:50 pm
