A little girl of hip height peered out from the crack of her bedroom door. The bright sunshine shone brightly that very day through the lace curtains of every window, lighting up the white interior of the hallway and yet she was scared.
She never heard silence before, at least not like this. She always woke to hear the shuffling of footsteps, murmurs of conversations and the occasional laughter of her older brothers – even rarer maybe even mum or a chuckle from dad. It was usually after these sounds slowly dissipated towards the late nights – when her eyes are heavily with the temptation to close them again for a much needed and undisturbed sleep – that she basked in this moments of silence. For her, it was so comfortable as being wrapped in a warm blanket and being tuck into bed with her favorite rose embroidered handkerchief and a bottle of milk. It lulled her to sleep as she knew that even within the shadows and quiet, she was never alone; the sun (her family) would make it all go away when she woke again.
Yet unlike the other days, for some reason, this day was different. She felt alone in the big house that she called home.