Page 41 - My Home on the Earth

can hear footsteps if they are in their kitchens. Plenty of food in fridge. I will be home on Sunday afternoon.
Marissa gasped for breath as she climbed the last few steps with her suitcases. Why I’m not allowed to use the front door and lift is stupid. This is no more than a blinking fire escape and a way out to the communal dustbins. Never mind, at least I can let John into the flat without him being seen. When she reached apartment twelve she keyed in the security code and pushed the door open with her boot. The service back door led straight into the kitchen. Her mouth dropped, as did the suitcases, and her eyes glazed over at the sight of the pristine, shiny elegant grey kitchen. She glanced down at her grubby boots and kicked them off. Fingering the silky surfaces, she found a note that read: This is a boiling-water tap – careful, very hot. Taking a patterned china mug from a rack, Marissa mastered it at her third attempt and made a coffee. An air of grace filled every room and nothing seemed out of place. Immaculate, light and modern, it was a far cry from her own home and the grubby places she’d had to endure. She checked out her room. ‘Good grief! She’s bought me a new bed!’ Marissa slid her feet into a pair of her sister’s fur-lined leather slippers and strolled from room to room. Pure luxury, she thought. In the kitchen, she sipped her coffee whilst admiring the view outside. Feeling peckish, she opened the fridge. It was chock-a-block with food, jars and packets. On the sink unit she noticed a chicken curry frozen meal with microwave instructions. But before eating, she went into
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