As a hobby, Heather researched the town before they moved.
Saint Teale - population, 745....747 now, built in 1805, the fishermen town - turned holiday funpark for the rich....A bad horror movie directed by Coco Chanel.
Her phone lit up, - one pm, they had finally arrived at Seventeen Crescent Place.
A new beginning she thought (she promised her own mother not to cry!). The car came to a slow stop, Michael getting out of the car with a little too much excitement.
He was very very excited, Heather not so much.
It was hot and she was very uncomfortable.

Saint Teale was small enough town that you could drive through the Main Street in five minutes. It was proven when Heather counted the seconds.

The love of God ! Heather signed, pressing her head against the car window.
She facial expression made no secret that she was unhappy.
Why must there be only one Main Street!
Heather was use to multiple roads, a concrete jungle of buildings, glass windows and people. Heather really did enjoy getting lost - especially on Sundays. She always found the best coffee houses and op shops on those days.

Heather chose to stay in the car, Michael was talking to the landlord.
She couldn't help but show her unhappiness about the move once again with a sigh.

Over the hours and hours of driving to this town, she told Michael that she was not happy.
"It could be an adventure" she whispered, climbing out of the car, leading against the passenger door, looking up at the clear, blue sky.

She felt defeated. It was a hot July this year, the fabric of her tank-top already sticking to her as she pulled her long, black hair into a tight bun, pushing her sunglasses on top of her head.

It wasn't even ten in the morning.

Together five years, but married for two of them, Michael, a correction officer and Heather was a journalist, although she has been taking a leave of absence: Two years to be exact.
She gave up her L.A. life style for Michael, moving to three towns in the period of two years for his odd string of jobs - the correction officer being the current one. Heather even took a job as a waitress in the last town to help them stay afloat when money was tight.

Oh god how the mighty had fallen.

"Welcome home babe" Michael said, waving the keys in front of her.
"Fourth times a charm" she said, swiping the keys away. Heading around the car to the bright red door. She had to admit that she like the colour. It bought the place charm.
Opening the door, she was met with stairs, mould green, old stairs that creaked as she walked up them. The apartment was small, two bedroom - with a tiny kitchen (not that they needed the second bedroom, since children wasn't on her plan despite Michael's protests)
Heather walked into the tiny kitchen. It was dirty, the windows glazed over with dust and smelt of drugs.
"Great. A crack house" she said, walking over to open the window. Getting frustrated as strained against her hands.
Suddenly Michael walked into the room, holding boxes reading "kitchen crap"
He put them down gently, a smile curling.
"You know we could christen this place" he whispered, fingertips tracing the fabric of her shirt.
Heather giggle, feeling sticky "Um. How about no"
They stared at each other for a moment. Tension between them filling the room as Michael frowned. Using those brown puppy dog eyes that didn't work on her. They hadn't been "intimate" for six months, not by his choice, but hers. Heather was struggling to love Michael at the moment.
He thought she didn't know about his "side projects" and "late night work schedules" or "hidden email accounts"
She moved around him, grabbing the box as she pushed the memories aside.