On the night

 On a night before the end of time a woman is in her house, the smell of sawdust surrounds her, she 8, and her dad, a perfectionist, would like to build everything around them single handedly. Her 3 younger other sisters. He carves the arched windows which separate the extension - a kitchen- from the open plan living room. The kitchen is tangerine coloured. He lays the patio in the garden, and the beloved German shepherd makes a foot print before he can tell her off. The floor too, is taken up from a bank in the city, each tile covered with tar, needs to be individually cleaned and sanded before it is laid, stained and perhaps sanded again. Ma and Pa sit in the garden scraping tar off the bottom of old wooden tiles. One day the floor is laid in a diagonal pattern. The arch window is painted white, the central piece of glass has a special shape in it. Things take a long time to be completed, so the smell of sawdust, paint, varnish is almost eternal. Like her short hair and her floral pattern. 

Palest of pinks, like chalk, tied up a leg. A christening. A ragged old doll. A pretty mother. 

Walking up and down stairs. Afraid of the alter. A wedding. A posed photo. A little girl. A handsome father.

I.

They drifted into fiction.

Made you/ her/ she/ y up.