The entrance to a large, conventional house opened slowly, revealing a figure standing in some of the light from the outside. The figure's name was Claudia to most, a name most might never forget if they met her. The woman was dressed in a matching cream-colored business pant suit, with a red blouse underneath the jacket, a shade of red matching her ankle-high boots. She stepped over the threshold, looking around curiously at the domicile's surroundings.
Before stepping in, Claudia literally didn't know what to expect. The outside structure seemed unique, yet similar to so many houses she's seen. There were none to compare it to though, as this one was out in the middle of nowhere, and nothing neighboring it in sight. The interior reminded her a lot of the house she grew up in, for better and for worse. After years of a shitty childhood, her only joys in life then were playing the piano and the prospect of leaving her terrible old-fashioned parents and West Virginia town behind. She didn't let it bother her, as she enjoyed touring new places in the Midwest now, like this one.
Walking across the entrance, heels gently clicking against the wood floor, she surveyed the furniture and structure like a real estate agent or potential home owner. It looked appealing so far, even despite the potential changes to be made. Claudia had enough walking room to comfortably see everything she wanted to. A couch, and two love seats, no TV, a stairway leading to another floor near the entrance, and a black grand piano near the back of the room. It all had a good feng shui feeling to her, like everything was more or less in an acceptable place. The lighting, usually brighter than today, was dim and subtle, much to the delight of the woman. She touched the patterned walls of white with thin black-stripped lines.
"Pretty, but could be better," she spoke out loud in a mountainy accent. Out of her pocket, she pulled out a cigarette pack, gracefully placing one between her pink lips, and took in a slow, satisfying inhale after lighting it. A stream of smoke blew into the air, having pink coloring a slightly stronger consistency than normal cigarette smoke. It hung above Claudia as she stared at the wall.
After a few minutes, she reached out to the wall, tracing some of the black lines with the whites of her French manicure. She felt them over and closed her eyes, trying to envision the perfect look. Hushed tones were whispered, changes Claudia wanted were made to almost no one in particular. She could imagine the touch of her fingertips changing the shape of the wallpaper in some parts, seeing the lines bend and curve in her own mind. The smoke that hung in the air never dissipated, but wafted toward the ceiling until it caressed the nearest wall like her hand did, smokily covering the wall and making similar changes of their own. All the while, a beautiful piano solo started playing in her mind, and it just played louder and more intricately the more she thought of it, eventually from the direction of the grand piano in the room.
When she finally opened her eyes again, she stepped back to see the changes she thought of implemented. The striped wallpaper how was a white rose floral design over a dark navy-colored background in her eyes, blooming all over the expansive room. Beethoven played on the piano as if on cue, adding to the overall ambiance of the room.
"Much better." Another drag of the cigarette and more pink smoke fill the air, trailing behind her like an animated supplicant.
"What is this room called again?" she asked no one in particular. As if expecting a response, the room itself responded "the frontal lobe," quieter than a mouse.
"Ah yes, where all the thinkin' happens."
"Yes," the disembodied voice whispered back.
"I can't help but approve of what I see here."
The room spoke no words, but sighed contentedly.
Parallel to the house's entrance and near the piano, there was a room leading deeper into the house. Some of the smoke trailing the suited woman slid under the door's gap at the bottom. The door opened to a long, surprisingly narrow hallway. It was very simplistic in design, like a section of an old-style country house. There were several doors on either side, only one set were directly across from each other. The sound of her heels clicked mixed with the piano playing behind her and echoed throughout the hallway as her leisurely steps headed toward the end.
At the back of the hall, there was another staircase leading to upstairs and maybe a basement, and a door next to it. The gap at the bottom was alit with pink coloring, similar to her lip-liner and her smoke. She gripped the old-fashioned white door handle and entered the new room. It was a closed-off back patio to the house, furnished only with a few chairs for lounging in, and long windows spread across the room. Outside, all that was visible was pink smoke, very similar to what she blew from her lips every so often. She could only smile at the hazy, colored sight before her.
"The occipital lobe, yes?"
"Yes," a voice whispered back.
"I've always wondered why this is kept in the back."
She took a seat in the nearest rocking chair and stared at the outdoor smoke absent-mindedly and happily.
She pushed off one heel to start a rocking motion as she looked. "Despite what ya see, I wonder what ya want to see."
Seconds later, an opaque, oversized mirrored view of Claudia's face pierced the haze and greeted her sight. It smiled at her, and the normal-sized Claudia smiled back, observing her expertly-done make up and supermodel features. It winked at her, and she got up to leave the room and peruse the rest of the property.
From the end of the hallway, she trailer her hands outward to touch the walls, dragging her nails, concentrating with her eyes shut for seconds before seeing the trail of bright pink carnation-flowered designs behind her until she reached the doors lined up across from each other.
She opened both simultaneously, their length long enough that the small lock mechanism sticking out nearly touched each other. With both doors wide open, each looked like the smaller hallways that led to the outside. From her pocket, she retrieved a fresh cigarette. The sound of lighting it was suddenly, artificially louder, more hollow, as was the sound of her first exhale. Heels clicked across the wood floor with the same quality, along with her voice.
"These sounds are so lovely. Your temporal lobes are so impressed with them, these sounds that echo through here. To hear a lighter click reminds you of me, to hear heels click reminds you of me. Beethoven, or any piano playin', reminds you of me. To hear me reminds you of what I mean to you, and how ya can't get me out of ya head."
As that voice resounded across the hallway, her words reminded her of something, and she promptly close the door, still hearing the faint echoes of exactly what she stressed as important or meaningful. She returned to the back-end of the hall, but walked up the stairway this time. At the top of the stairs was looked like a door to an attic of an old house. Her fingernails tapped against the old white door.
"What the hell was this part called again?"
"P..parietal lobe."
"Right, right. Kind of an uninspired name for it if ya ask me."
Opening the door, the woman walked into a huge white void, off-setting the color of her suit, stretching far beyond what her eyes could see.
"The scope of awareness like this never ceases to amaze me, but neither does this."
The woman stretched out her arms and the fingers of both hands, as it to get a grip on something with an extreme width for her thin frame. From that pose, she closed her eyes and began closing the distance between her hands. If anyone could see her, they might have the impression of watching a delusional woman trying to deflate an invisible balloon. The delusion was powerful enough as the horizon darkened, blackened, and closed in on her position, until she stopped moving her hands. There was maybe 10 feet left of the void surrounding her, while Claudia's French tips touched and enclosed a rounded shape.
"Spacial awareness, custom settin'," she laughed to herself, before throwing her arms out and re-establishing the white void. She felt a whoosh around her at the reverting, but the only sound was of her own voice and breathing. Satisfied, she opened the door behind her and strutted downstairs, positively ecstatic at all these new features she thought about playing with.
Back in the hallway, she looked over the rooms and realized how miscellaneous they all looked to her. Other than the previously-entered doors, they all looked the same to her. None of them were marked much to her dismay. It was an annoying guessing game she found herself playing, but she did play for what she wanted to hit next.
"Hmm...emotions, emotions. Where are ya, emotions? Ya got to b-"
She was cut off by a creaking sound coming from one of the doors, made ajar by someone or something she was unaware of. Instead of feeling fear, curiosity made her approach the door and open it wide, exposing the insides. It looked like a cluttered, yet somehow highly organized combination of broom closet and office. The most regulated part of the house by far.
