Home

“Mom, I’m home,” I said, like I used to when I got back from school. The house was empty, no furniture except for some old cracked plastic chairs in the corner. There were cobwebs in the windows. Bright July sun shone through.

I went out and circled around back. Our old washer and dryer were still in the laundry room, but now they were all rusted. I opened the washer hatch and reached into its dark belly. I touched something hard cold and oblong. I pulled it out. It was an empty milk bottle. “Strange,” I mumbled.

I went back inside the house and got to the foot of the stairs. I tested the first step, but it was most likely too weak to sustain my weight, so I stood there, trying to decide.

”Ben,” my wife had entered the house and was standing in the doorway, backlit by the heavy sun, “Come on, can we get out of here? This old place gives me the creeps."

"In a minute, honey. I want to see what’s upstairs."

"Why? Did you leave something there?"

"No. Not really,” I said.

Posted by: Paweł Kowaluk