My sister, Sasha.

I see on the sub-LCD the caller I.D. of the person that is calling. I find that it's Sasha, supposedly calling me back for that call that she missed. I flip up the phone, that by default answers the phone, and put the receiver up to my ear. Into the transmitter, I say, "Hello."

"Hello, Marianne? Is that you?" I hear the voice of Sasha through the receiver.

Hearing the familiar voice, I say excitedly into the phone, "Hey Sasha, it's me!" Sasha and I get all excited the way typical sister separated for more than six months would.

"Hey, how was flight? Did you get here okay? Is Roman treating you good?" my sister excitedly and nervously asks, pretty much like how a mother asks random questions to fight her worries.

"I'm fine Sasha," I assure her.

"Did you get my present?"

"Present?" I glance at the suitcase sitting next to me.

"Yea, the present. I told Roman to give it to you."

"Oh, I got it. I got it."

"Well, do you like it?"

"I haven't taken a look at it."

"What?"

"Well, I only got here like five minutes ago."

"Oh, well, I hope you'll like it then," Sasha says and pauses for a few seconds, before saying back into the transmitter, "Well I have to go now. You be careful, okay Marianne."

"Okay," I respond. I push the 'end call' button and close my phone and place it on the nightstand on the other side of the bed. On this nightstand I also put my purse and I look at the time on the clock radio already sitting on the nightstand. The time says 1:30 P.M.

I start my stay here at Roman's place by taking a look at the suitcase. I stand up from the bed and turn the suitcase so that the lock side faces toward me. One lock opens as I pull upon one of them and then the other does the same. I pull the hatch up and gaze into the case. What I see are different kinds of fabric of multiple colors. On top of these garment is an envelop. I pick up the envelop and open it. Inside is a card. The card doesn't have any art or fancy writing in it. What is written inside is, surprisingly, as follows:

"Hey Marianne, these are some dresses that I myself have liked and adored. I hope you like them. Sasha. P.S. Hope the cash will be able to suit you."

Correct and right down to the letter, accompanying the note from Sasha, is American cash. About five hundred dollars to be exact. Cautious, I take the stack of bills and reach for my purse sitting on the nightstand. I open it and get my wallet. Inside the wallet is my I.D. from London and a stack of 20 and 50 Euro banknotes as well. Seeing that I'm in American and not in London, I search for a trash can in the room. I find the trash bin sitting underneath the single drawer nightstand and pull it out and continue to drop the banknotes into the trash. But my gut stops me and tells me that I can simply get an ATM card with a savings and checking account to store my money and exchange the banknotes for American dollars. I open my wallet once more and put back the banknotes in one slip and put the stack of five hundred American dollars in another. I put back my wallet in my purse and close it.

I go back to the suitcase with the assortment of garments in it. To my surprise, every single piece of clothing in the suitcase are dresses. None of the pieces have any pant legs to them. Clothing ranging from mini-skirts to cocktail dresses to long dresses fill the suitcase. I empty the suitcase and neatly fold the garments and sort them according to their designs. I get one of my yellow, Sharpie-written suitcases and open it. I stuff all the dresses and skirts into the case but leave it open. I open the other case and leave it open right next to the other. I take the empty suitcase sitting on the bed, close it, and place it back underneath the bed.

I go to the closet and find it empty, only filled with clear, plastic hanging with nothing hanging on them. I go to the suitcase, the one with the dresses and skirt Sasha gave me, and one by one, start filling the closet with them. I try to organized and hang the dresses and mini-skirts by color. Once all the dresses have been hanged on the hanger, I continue to unpack and organized my clothes and things in the closet. After five hours, all my things are neatly stored in the closet. This closet, like a dresser, seemed small at first because it reached from the middle of the room to the ceiling. From the middle of the room to the floor, was a separate dresser with four large drawers. This is how every piece of clothing escaped the clutches of my suitcases.

I look on the clock radio and find that it's 6:30 in the afternoon. The light in room has almost entirely been wiped out. I turn on the lamp in the room and the orange-yellow light illuminates almost every corner. After all the laborious work I've done for five hours, I feel like I need a bath. First, I sit on the bed in order to take unstrap my heels and take them off. Then I take my trusty towel and a few clothes and enter the bathroom.

After cleaning myself up and wrapping myself with the towel, I feel refreshed and somewhat energized. I say in my head that this shower was my first shower in America. I feel like when I was washing up, I was erasing the life I had back in London and making my slate clean to make room for a life in America. I find the time on the clock has changed from 6:30 to 7:10. I also feel a cool breeze entering the screen door from outside. Some shadows appear in places where the light from outside shone on.

I realize that I'm still in my towel completely naked, but mostly dry, instead of my voluminous dark auburn hair. The clothes I brought into the shower were clothes I wore from four years ago. I wouldn't be caught dead wearing degenerate clothes like those. In actuality, almost thirty percent of the clothes in the suitcases were from four years ago. I can believe that there could be some holes and some torn hems and stitches here and there. I should take the initiative and throw them out.

I rush to the closet and look to find and alternative outfit to wear. That's when I hear it. A familiar sound that I've heard before. I have heard this particular sound from earlier, this very day. The sound was like a sonic boom but without the aftereffects. I'm pretty sure the sound came from around the garage. I'm also sure that it wasn't approach the garage, instead leaving and fading away. The sound I heard was the roar of an engine. This sound wasn't from a muscle car. I would know because I sat in one before I got here. The engine or muffler sound was from an Import, probably Japanese.

As the sound fades in the distance, I find myself distracted from the sounds coming nearer. This sound wasn't of a car or a truck or some other vehicles. This sound came from outside, like the sound of footsteps walking on wooden planks. From the vibration you can feel on this houseboat, I can feel like someone has stepped onto the patio and is drawing nearer. I try not to notice and try to act as if I didn't. I open the dresser's door and look upon the dresses hanging on the hangers. Once open, I hear another thing open. It was the distinct sound of the screen being opened. I continue to hear the sounds, now as footsteps walking on hardwood flooring, the same type of floor in the cabinet hallway. I prepare to turn around and attempt to scare the would-be intruder.

I start to turn and as I complete my turn at 180 degrees, I see....