The Citizen Soldier (DNF)

3) The Empty Home

*George POV*

I was following the directions to the address that Clay had put into the GPS, and I noticed the way that he was the first person in a long time to not question why my car looked quite so... lived in. Perhaps he didn't think much of it. It wasn't a particularly long drive, only about twenty minutes with traffic, and when I pulled up I was surprised to see a large home standing in front of the car. Most people that had accepted a ride home from me lived in apartments, especially if they were around twenty or so.

"D-do you want to come inside? I could make us some food or something and you could sleep in the guest room if you wanted to."

I was taken aback. Why would Clay want me to visit? After a bit I nodded my approval, hoping that the appreciation showed through in the small gesture. I may not stay the night because I didn't have a sleep schedule to support it, but the gesture was kind enough. And it couldn't kill me to eat dinner with whatever roommates he had.

"Sure, I can stay for dinner."

Clay looked very excited at the news. He opened his door and got out of my car to open his front door in a rush. I giggled a little at his obvious enthusiasm and got out of my car as well, turning off my beautiful home and walking up behind the taller blonde.

When he got his door opened I saw the last thing that I expected to see. What I expected to see was a few roommates watching TV late into the night, or one laying passed out on the couch snoring. Maybe they were all asleep.

Trigger Warning: Mild Panic

Instead what I saw was a deep, dark, somewhat suffocating room with nothing but a tall and dim burning candle lit on the dinner table. The pale glow barely cast enough light for two papers to be seen on the table, and the candelabra that hung from the ceiling. The rest of the room was cold and shrouded in inky black, freezing and empty and silent. Nothing seemed to be living here, in a house that was meant to house a dead man. Nothing seemed like it wanted to even breathe in the deep despair that this room seemed to nurse.

I shuddered. It felt cold, it felt empty, and it felt truly dark. This was totally unlike any of the other times that I've driven people home and come to their doorstep, this was truly an empty home, not one that was filled to the brim with as many sweaty, greasy men as it could legally and somewhat sanitarily hold. This was a truly grim place, and I felt like I couldn't breathe when I looked inside.

I couldn't imagine living all alone in such a large space. I could deal with the small comfort of my car but a whole house? Some would be jumping for joy at all the space in which to hang their things and place their shelves, but I'd be overwhelmed by the wide openness of my world.

*****

All of this occurred within the span of two seconds because Clay turned on the light to a warmly decorated home that looked like it belonged to a ww2 mother. There were pictures of soldiers on the walls and there were vintage decorations everywhere. It looked quite homey one could say.

Clay clapped his hands and rubbed them together for a second, then split them apart and gestured to the living room vaguely. "Well...?"

I snapped out of my trance. "Oh! Well, I like the interior, it looks very 1970's."

He laughed. "Well, that's what my mom was going for, so I'll take that as a compliment."

I liked his laugh, it sounded nice, but also something like a kettle. It made me smile in his direction. "Your mother sounds like a lovely woman."

He nodded. "Yeah, she's one of the best that I could ask for." His eyes shone as he said it, brightening my smile. Then they dimmed and he frowned. "But she's gone now, and I don't know if she'll ever come back." I frowned in turn.