Shadows on Sterling Place

Sofia fumbled for her sunglasses as sunlight leaked through the half-opened door. Her cousin Marco’s duffel bag thudded onto the hardwood, rattling the porcelain cat by the stairs.

“You couldn’t wait until sundown?”

Sofia hissed, pulling the blackout curtains tighter. Footsteps thundered above, her other cousin, Lucia, stomping to claim the best bedroom. The brownstone’s scent was different now, tinged with her cousins’ anxiety and stale grief. Sofia stuffed her camera bag behind the couch, eyes darting to the clock. Only twenty minutes until the lawyer arrived. Marco glared at her, tension thickening the air. Outside, the brittle branches scraped the windows, and inside, the Almeida family drama was just beginning.

Sofia studied Marco, searching for a flicker behind his guarded gaze. Without speaking, she turned away and headed to the kitchen, leaving the blackout curtains in the front hall untouched. The familiar scent of old spices and fresh coffee wrapped around her as she stepped inside, a sharp contrast to the weight of tension she carried.

Sofia paused mid-pour, her eyes locking onto Marco’s with a steady intensity.

"I'm not ignoring you. I just got here too."

She placed the mug carefully on the cool counter between them, the ceramic making a soft clink.

Sofia held Marco’s gaze, her expression unreadable as his words lingered between them. The rich aroma of brewing coffee mixed with the sharp edge of his accusation, filling the quiet kitchen with tension. She stayed still, her eyes steady as the weight of their shared past settled heavily in the air.

Sofia let Marco's accusations linger, the silence heavy with unspoken history. She poured a second mug of coffee, steam rising in slow spirals, then slid it across the counter toward him without a word. The scent of fresh brew filled the kitchen, a quiet contrast to the simmering tension.

Sofia watched as Marco snatched the mug, their knuckles brushing briefly in the thick silence. His words cut through the stillness, sharp and final.

"Don't think this changes anything, Sofia. We're not friends."

The coffee continued to brew, its steady gurgle the only sound filling the tense kitchen.

Sofia gave a slow nod.

"Okay."

She lifted her coffee, the warmth of the mug a small solace, then turned away from Marco. The old oak staircase groaned softly under her steps as she climbed, leaving the tense kitchen behind. Dust motes floated in the pale light filtering through the upper windows, casting faint glimmers on the hallway lined with faded family portraits. Lucia’s door stood slightly open, offering a glimpse of the disorder inside.

Sofia leaned against the doorframe, surveying the chaos. Unpacked bags spilled over, clothes strewn carelessly. Lucia sat on the edge of the four-poster bed, a precarious pile of old photo albums stacked nearby.

"You claimed this room fast."

Sofia offered a small, testing smile.