I usually take the long road from work back to my home at the edge of the village, but today, everybody looked down as I walked past. When I placed my key in the lock, I heard an emotionless voice from behind: “I’m sorry, but I have to do this.”
They said that studying abroad could change your life. I never knew it could change your definition of “home.”
Anxious to share her news, she ran all the way home. When she saw what waited for her there, she ran away.
“Wait – don’t jump!” Carly Ann yelled at her big brother who was ready and poised to plummet to (what he thought would be) his death from the window of his second-story bedroom. “Just give me a minute to get up there and I’ll push you off myself!”
Without realizing it, he had grown to hate everything that he once so desperately missed. The home he thought he was at long last returning to proved to be nothing more than a rude awakening to the fact that this was no longer where he belonged.
In the alley behind the Nursing Home, they recycle the withered bodies of former residents in gray bins. Once a week, infants swaddled inside plastic totes appear on the front doorstep.
She waited 15 years to finally have stability and even begged her husband to get a stable job so she could get out of God forsaken Wales – a beautiful country with hardly any crime. Unfortunately, they wound up moving to Houston – an ugly city with nothing but crime.
In the time I’ve lived alone in this house, I’ve closed far more doors than I’ve opened. Of course, my asshole friends always leave the doors open when they visit… dicks.