There was a piano in the living room of this house I used to live in.

I rented a small bedroom in a basement of a house in a town called Brunfield.

And honestly, this was the first time I had actually been in a basement.

I have lived in California all my life and this was the first time out of the state.

But I only had to be in this town for three months or so because of an internship I had

gotten.

The family that lived in this house was strange.

They never really seemed to talk to each other.

So one time the mom asked me to take her son to the wrestling event he was interested

in.

And other time, they tricked me into going to a party by a lake that actually turned

out to be a church event.

They seemed normal overall, but they had a habit of being too quiet, no television,

no radio, no talking.

I really only heard them when they got home around 9pm every weeknight.

And that was because the wooden floors creaked.

I could hear the sun crinkling bags of fast food and the sound of the shower being turned

on upstairs.

And sometimes the microwave.

One afternoon I had gotten home early from my internship because I was not feeling well

and got to the house in the middle of the day.

There was nothing particularly interesting about the city and I was alone most of the time.

...