February 16th, 2018

Snowpoint City is a… highly underrated place, I think it's quite fair to say. Most people and pokemon - and understandably so - see it as cold, desolate and empty. And for much of the year it is. The seasons have this strange effect on Snowpoint that, as I would later learn, is quite different from the rest of the known world. But, there are a couple hidden beauties that few people even know about that exist there.

First and foremost is the way the city looks in the summer months. From about mid-autumn to late spring, Snowpoint is absolutely covered in white. But starting in May, a very rapid springtime occurs, where all the flowers and trees burst with life, as if in a rush to do so, and… well I can safely say I've never seen a prettier shade of green. Due to all the moisture from the melt and the fact that the summers never achieve anything even remotely "hot," everything stays that way. It's absolutely delightful, and I wish more people knew about it… But I suppose it is an unknown. We never got many tourists, no matter the weather.

And, I suppose that is the other beautiful thing about Snowpoint. It's the seclusion. There are plenty of people that live there year round, so I can assure you the city never quite dies. But no matter when you visit it's very… calm. Little happens, and everyone who lives there knows the name and face of everyone else. It's such a big and happy community. When the weather clears the city is abuzz with all sorts of activity. And even after the first snowfall, when everyone returns to their homes, everyone looked out for one another. Even I would welcome visitors from time to time when Michael was away. All the neighbors (and I must stress I use that term loosely) knew very little about him, but still they would come by, usually with a tray of cookies or a blanket and we'd… sit and chat for a while. I think the conditions made for people who were very down-to-earth. ...Very real and present. Very friendly.

Even now I miss quite a lot them.

What I do not miss was the house itself. Now I don't mean to say it was quite objectively wretched. In fact, the home I grew up in was quite exquisite. But it became a chore to keep up with. I believe in total the house was over five thousand square feet or… four hundred and fifty square meters. It was comprised of three floors, though to call the upstairs a proper floor isn't entirely accurate. The main floor made up the majority of the house. It had a very lavish lounge complete with a stone fireplace and three sets of couches that more or less encircled the space in front of it. This was what you'd see as soon as you came in through the front door. Which was… massive. It had its own custom locking mechanism that I still to this day don't quite understand. And I believe it was made of cherry…

Anyway, the kitchen was to the immediate right of the lounge, and the hallway that led to the rest of the house on the opposite side of the room. The kitchen was a little cramped, if I'm being honest. Counter space was a mere suggestion, with all of the appliances huddled together. And everything else was cabinets… So many cabinets. Organized as I was, I had to eventually persuade Michael to label every one of them so that I could stay on top of things. You had to pass through the kitchen to reach the dining room as well. It was the only way in, save for the sliding back door that led to the deck. The dining room was posh as well, with a table large enough for sixteen chairs. Though most of the time they were set to the side, unless Michael was hosting one of his rare parties. For the most part it was just the two of us there for dinner. Occasionally he had a person he would call one of his "clients," though what for I still don't fully…

...no, maybe I do know. ...Regardless.

The hallway had three doors on the left, two on the right, and one at the very end. I remember this rather vividly. The first door led downstairs to the basement. Somewhere I was… almost never allowed. This was where Michael conducted his business. Yes, he did work from home, though it was so far detached you may as well have considered it a separate building. The stairs reached far below, as much as four flights of stairs before you found yourself in another hallway. And in these rooms-

...Actually, I should probably save that for another time as well.

The second door on the left was my bedroom. It wasn't anything particularly big. It had enough space for a bed, two dressers and a small walk-in closet, with one large window that presented such a beautiful view… This was at the front of the house, mind you. And with the house positioned up on a hill, you could see the entire city from my bedroom. I… I definitely do miss that. Though the view I have now is pretty comparable. But I digress. My bed was initially a twin, but when I evolved, Michael upgraded it to a queen. ...It was incredibly comfortable. No matter how hard I worked each day, it was a lovely thing to return to my bed and read a few chapters or finish my knitting before I dozed off…

Um, the third door on the left led to the upstairs, and this went right over my bedroom. As such the ceiling was slanted, but luckily it was rare for anyone to venture up there, anyway. I should say, the upstairs was merely a large balcony which doubled as the entertainment center. Michael had a theater system complete with speakers, a sectional to sit on... and the railing overlooked the lounge. The entire house had one massive vaulted ceiling with a chandelier I thankfully only had to ever clean twice in my life. I would occasionally venture up there to watch some television after I had completed all of my chores, but much like the extra chairs in the dining room, the upstairs was almost exclusively reserved for parties.

The last door at the end of the hall was Michael's bedroom. And it was certainly a suite.

Now, it was rare that I ever set foot in there. He never asked me too. Not even to tidy up. That was his space, and I was only asked to respect it. He had a king size bed, his own personal bathroom, a much larger walk in closet, the latter two I… I don't think I ever even saw. I just knew they were there. Like I said, it was rare. And I was obedient. Perhaps to a fault. But I never explored where I shouldn't have. I didn't need to.

Well, I suppose that isn't entirely true, but again. I'll save that for another time.

The two doors on the right consisted of /my/ bathroom, which was essentially the guest bath. It had a tub and a shower, rather than a combination, which I always thought was a little unnecessary, if only because it gave me more to clean when I was the only one using them. We kept the towels in the bathroom too. I didn't think much of it at the time, having a dedicated closet /in/ the bathroom just for towels, rather than elsewhere in the house, but in hindsight that is a bit odd. I suppose it was somewhat convenient, if rarely. ...And then the last door led to the laundry room, where I kept all of my cleaning supplies. This room also had a door that led to the backyard, and even then I thought that was somewhat odd. Why the laundry room of all places..? Oh, it doesn't matter.

Speaking of the backyard, and the property itself, the whole of our five acres was enclosed by a white picket fence. The backyard was pretty plain. Michael didn't fancy gardening much and- while I did to an extent, I didn't have the greenest thumb, so a few hanging baskets during the summer and a couple of plots I'd have to replant every year were all I needed. The rest was simply lawn. So much open space it… was quite effective in eliminating the claustrophobia you would think I had during my seven years in that house. To me it was a lot. Everything seemed larger than life, though I suppose when I had nowhere to go but up, I was easily impressed.

Now that's not to say I never left home. As I said before, I was allowed to leave with Michael's supervision. In fact, it was routine of us to go on a jog three mornings a week. We had a preset route that took us into town and back. I desperately needed the exercise, and it was a breath of fresh air I always looked forward to.

I don't know if it was the "psychological games" Michael played with me, but almost never did I have that urge to leave. Almost never did I have that urge to see what else was out there. This was home. It was my space, my life, and I felt safety and security.

Almost never.