"Home"

The house was not quite as he remembered.

Walking up the driveway, Ethan scanned the area, memory clashing with what his eyes take in. The grass was unruly, the paint faded, and the driveway vacant and lonely. The homey glow that once radiated from the two story structure was now long faded. A sentimental knot twisted in Ethan's belly, threatening to rise up his throat. Swallowing it down, he marched up to the door, fishing around in his pocket for his key.

Finding and extracting it, Ethan can't help but pause while looking at it. The slip of metal was old and worn, fingers having run over it a thousand times. Grandma's key.

Almost reluctantly, Ethan put the key to use, the lock yielding and the way opening.

Inside, time was frozen.

Dust and sheets aside, the house was as he remembered, the innards of the home safe from the weathering the outside took. Closing the door behind him, Ethan flipped the nearby lightswitch, a flickering preceding the light filling the room. Illumination makes two things clear: This place needs a cleaning, and it really hasn't changed. The decor was still his grandparents, which was out of fashion as long as Ethan could recall. Still, everything was in good shape, so replacing it would be...

Ethan yawns.

Those sorts of thoughts could wait.

Sleep was more urgent. Leaving his bag by the door for now, Ethan makes for the stairs. They creak under his weight, much like they did when he was younger, although with a bit more audible strain. He was bigger now, such things are to be expected. At the top of the stairs Ethan can’t help but pause, an uncomfortable notion catching him. Where to sleep?

When he was young, he would always sleep in his dad's old room, but now the master bedroom, his grandparent's room, was free and technically his.