Helping Ms. Norah.

You are coming back from class when you run into Ms. Norah by the entrance.

“Oh, John! I’m glad to see you.” She says. “Could you help me move some boxes? They’re too heavy for me.” She asks with a bit of regret, apparently not wanting to make you work.

“Sure, no problem!” You tell her. Your eagerness to help her makes you forget for a moment that you’re not the strongest guy around. However, Ms. Norah seems relieved, so it’s all good.

Fortunately, while the boxes are heavy, they’re something you can handle. Ms. Norah leads you around the back of the apartment complex to her house, a two-story building.

“I made the mistake of telling the person delivering that to just leave the boxes by the entrance and it turned out they were too heavy for me,” She tells you. “Sorry for the trouble.”

“No, it’s no trouble…!” You say, but your voice struggles to come out as you walk with the heavy box on your arms.

She opens the door for you and tells you it’s fine to leave it in the living room. This is the first time you’re inside her house. Her living room looks pretty standard, but comfortable. Two couches, big enough to fit three people each, a wooden coffee table, a flat-screen TV and a big potted plant next to it are the main objects in it, along with a few family photos hanging on the walls. One with three people calls your attention. There’s Ms. Norah, of course, looking about the same as she does now. There’s also a man next to her, who you assume is (or was) her husband, and a little girl between them, no older than 3 or 4 years old.

“Thank you very much. Could you get the other one too, please?” She asks you sweetly. Well, not exactly, but you hear it that way.

“Of course!” You answer. As you’re exiting the house, you bump into someone. “Oh! Sorry!” You say.

In front of you is... Ms. Norah?

…no, it’s not her, obviously, but she looks at lot like her! There are a few key differences though, the most noticeable one being her long red hair. She’s slightly shorter than Ms. Norah and is wearing a school uniform, her skirt is shows some of her long, sexy legs. Her hourglass figure almost mirrors the older woman’s, but this girl is slimmer. Her generous chest threatens to snap one of the buttons from her blouse.

The girl just scowled and walked past you, not bothering to say a word.

“Vivian, you could at least say hi to John.” Ms. Norah tells the girl, but she ignores her as well and goes up the stairs.

“I’m sorry, John. That’s my daughter, Vivian.” She tells you. You can see pain in her eyes and what may even be frustration. “She’s… a little hard to deal with. Please forgive her.”

“N-No, don’t worry. It’s fine, really.” You assure her, but the look Vivian gave you triggered brief flashbacks to high school. Well, she is a high school senior, after all.

You get the last box for Ms. Norah and go back to your apartment. You finish writing the essay that’s due tomorrow and go to sleep.