The sun had just come out of the clouds. It was sure to stay for just a short while. Rain had been the predominant of the day and grey clouds were already waiting behind the rows of chimneys that were penetrating the clear line of the horizon like childish forks. A ray of last sunlight shone through the front windows of Cedar Grove 145, a nice cosy row house, much like the adjoining ones, nice coloured tiles decorating the entrance, a staircase right behind the front door, the kitchen straight through, the dinner room left to the back with the glass doors going to the garden, and the living room like a sort of reception to the left, just when you come in.
Carpets spread everywhere on the floors.
Those had been done two years ago, when Mathew turned eight and had stopped making a constant mess around himself. At least that's what his father always said. The pictures on the wall were rather the boring sort, cheap landscapes in frames of artificial wood, that weren't put there because somebody liked them, but because everybody thought they ought to be there. The furniture went just along in the style. Mathew had shortly before come in from the backyard.