Florence, Italy.
The sky is the most pure shade of deep blue as the sky darkens. Tonight, there is no spill of colors across the night sky. My older sister, Lilith calls. ''Geneva, come in and help with the laundry already!'' I had been reclining on the roof. I slid down to the window in silence and climbed through the painless frame. It had come out before I was born. Going to Lilith, I get a feeling in my stomach, the kind that makes you feel like you could run forever and then more. When the breeze in the launder room caught my nostrils, I jolted like a horse a tad too eager to race. Lilith shoved a small bundle for the ''usual'' and I begin to scrub with the lilac scented soap. My mother adores flowers, so much that she bothers to name her daughters after them before she runs off with a more ''attractive young man'' were her words to father as she left. Lilith was my grandmother's name, little Rose and Blossom, the twins were mothers favorite flowers. Blossom was going to be Pear Blossom, but it ''would not do'' said my father. I giggled when she was bloody with the baby in the birthing room and she nuzzled her little head and said firmly, ''Her name is Blossom.'' I had been making these relavations while mindlessly scrubbing on the washing board. Lilith had put the twins in bed. Father would, as usual, stumble into the house with blood shot eyes early in the morning and have one of us fix him a bath. That's about when I decided to have some enjoyment to my typicly dreary life. The laundry being done, I climbed up to the veranda, and slipped through the stone window,
Into the night.