• Her fingers raced over the envelope, gyrating it in a repetitive pattern. Flipping it over, the generic font stared at her, teasing her to open it. She looked down at the envelope, allowing her bottom lip to fall. She instinctively tore the seal. She jerked the letter out, cautiously unfolding it.

    “Dear Angela,
    With reference to your mother’s letter, I would like to inform you that the Smith family have vacated the house as of the 1st of December. We expect your company within a few days. Reminding you the cost of rent is…”

    A photograph fluttered through the air and fell between her feet. Dropping her head further down she caught a glance of the scenery captured in the image. The house stood alone, centred in the barren landscape on a slight incline. It was a generic country home; knickknacks hung from the veranda, rustic windows fell from the boards of the house, adorned with twists of federation architecture, hardwood weatherboards ran around the house, spotted with burns and grazes from the climate. She counted three blue gum trees, which hunched over the sea of dead vegetation. The brittle strands of grass seemed to crash and bang against each other as a swell of hot air raced between them. “Ashville” was written plainly beneath the image.

    Her finger raced over the edge of the photograph, she could almost feel the lifeless grass beneath her fingertips. She cringed as she turned away, forcing the photograph and letter back in her pocket.

    A sigh of irritation escaped from her. She had predicted this day for some time, and had packed her car days ago. She pulled herself up from the step of her family home, gazing into the distance. A fine mist gracefully swam past the buildings as they reached towards the sky. The sun reflected from the windows, creating a slow dance as it moved across the horizon. Soft murmurs of urbanism could be heard, the deep hum of a train gliding along its track, and the subtle orchestra of car horns swayed with the cool breeze.

    She pulled away from the concert of the city, and headed towards the car. The lively lawn cushioned the impact of her shoes. Before climbing into the car, she paused, and savoured the rich aromas that surrounded her, like Mrs Johnson’s home baked Anzac biscuits and scones and the smells of freshly mown grass. From down the street, the faint chant of ‘Red rover cross over’ could be heard.

    She stepped into the car and pulled out of the quaint driveway, switching gaze between the road ahead and the rear view mirror, until home faded from her sight.

    The comforting colours of vibrant billboards and traffic lights became scarce, before disappearing completely. She was on an open road, and became uncertain of her route. Gum trees sprinted past her in a uniform line, all washed with the same dirty grey shade. The sun beamed down across the desolate landscape, reflecting the heat from the road in a churning dance. The stench of dead foliage rushed into her car through an opening in her window, making her dazed and confused. The steering wheel became damp beneath her fingertips. In the distance she spotted a familiarity: two large green signs, accompanied by a fork in the road. Gradually, it became legible. An arrow curved to the left, with the label “Sydney via Campbelltown” beside it. The adjacent sign read Ashville directing ahead.
    Angela slowed to a standstill beneath the signs. They looked down towards her, the large bold font screaming at her. The interior of the car confined her, forcing her to get out. She stood beside the car as a tear slowly trickled down her face.

    She turned away from the sign. A glint of light flashed toward her and caught her eye, directing it to house that stood alone on a hill. The field of grass surrounding it swam and danced in the breeze creating a gentle hum. Browns through to dull greens reflected the sun differently, creating a distinct swell of shades.

    She retrieved the photograph sent to her from the tenant, holding it towards the clear blue sky. The images were almost identical, the same three gum trees accompanied the house, but they stood grand, it’s branches twisted and twirled elegantly as they wafted a subtle aroma of eucalyptus, greeting her. The vegetation surrounding the house waltzed to the whistle of the wind. The rustic windows proudly graced the house with their aged charm, complementing the flawless weatherboard that ran around the house.

    She smiled as she hopped back into the car, not even noticing the rear view mirror. She travelled straight ahead, as the house upon the hill slowly approached her.