Musty. Hot. The air… more burdensome than moist.
There were no pets. Wait… Once there was a wounded squirrel on the kitchen table in a small cage.
Before dawn, winter or summer, the split, red-oil-clothed kitchen chairs were sweating. The matching cloth settees in the living room were no better.
One small aisle for movement: tables of all sizes…shelves upon shelves… corners enveloping corners: the house was green.
Ferns. Violets. Ivies. Geraniums. Wild and free.
A blinding amalgamation of multi-shaped blossoms entangled philodendrons with an asthmatic assault which accosted you upon entry.
It wasn’t Grandma’s, but I loved it.
Written for the Carrot Ranch Flash Fiction Challenge: Requirements: 99 words and ‘a nutty aunt‘.