He had the choice to sit in front of two windows. One, where he’d get to pry the aged glass open and breathe in the life that he could have had. And one, where he could gaze out and watch himself grow up in his old home across the street, before the passing July day when an ex-employ of his fathers had too much to drink and lit up the only childhood memory he had in flame. Burning his future along with it. He sat in the living room of the house. Keeping both eyes shut, undecided of which to look out. He didn’t want to stay staring at the same golden lamp in the corner at his fathers study desk, the old velvet chairs in the middle of the room and a carpet that you could get lost in following the patterns. And you can’t forget about the crumbling walls. He decided to open his eyes and turn to the last window, It’s better knowing what you have, then what you don’t. Nodding through happy tears at the three-year old sister and seven-year old him, spinning around and around in the front yard of their house until they grew dizzy and fell over. Only to have their beloved dog, Berry, race from him to his sister, kissing their faces and arms with kibble breath.
Written by Alecia Writes
1 thought on “The View”
Kind of chilling. Keep up the creative short stories, always interesting.
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