Wandering: Hannah/Open She'd opted to go inside, finally and late, late, late, and she hadn't headed into the kitchen. She carried no glass or plate in her hand, and she was just walking. Upstairs now, and she knew the halls and the walls, and it was quieter here. The music lifted, carried, whispered through the floorboards, and downstairs people moved in sluggish-late-night laze, and she was quiet steps that imagined smiles on all the faces of the people below.
At the door to the dance studio, she stopped, and she peered in the open door. Thinking, thinking, but it wasn't really this dance studio in her mind. It was Molly's dance studio, the one behind a red door, and she remembered. And then it was dance class in Florida, her and Molly, and eventually Jamie going instead of either of them. But she remembered those classes, the ones when she was still so small, and when she still held out the hope that Mom would return.
Her smile was a soft thing, something made of glass and clouds, something not real, but she wasn't mad or lost. She was just thinking, and there had been good times and not just bad, and sometimes that was hard for people to remember. But thinking about the good times, it kept them alive, and Molly spun pirouettes in that room before her eyes. She wondered, idly, where David was, because thinking about Molly always, always made her think about David. But it was brief, a blip, a tiny thing, and she walked further into the room and tipped her head to the side, and there she listened.