Continued from May 15, 2018
#AmWriting #Fiction #IndieAuthor
After staring at his old uniform for more than an hour, Marcus rose from his desk and left his hideaway, switching the master power switch to the whole room before closing the door.
He trudged up the basement stairs and down the hall where the faded wallpaper hung as a reminder of better times. Memories of hanging it with Gail flooding through his mind as he walked, smelling the old perfume lingering on the walls.
He rounded the banister at the end of the hall and continued his ascent through the house. He just wanted to sleep. To close his eyes and make the world disappear, at least for a few hours, but stopped when he came to the door to Dylan’s room.
The stickers still clung to the eggshell paint reflecting bands his son had listened to as a teenager. Marcus opened the door, letting the dust swirl as fresh air rushed into the darkness. He could smell the odor of old incense and the hint of dirty laundry despite the fact the room had been unoccupied for more than ten years.
Marcus walked through the door uncomfortably. In his mind the room still belonged to his son. He felt as though he were trespassing in someone else’s home. Gail had cleaned the room not long after he had left, so the bed was made, and the floor was clear.
He sat on the bed and looked around. On the nightstand he saw the picture of Gail and himself, holding a newborn baby Dylan. A sad smile crept across his face as he picked it up. Sitting there, in the empty house, he thought back to the day Dylan was born.