Cogent

NINE

The front door was ajar, swinging slightly in the wind on oiled hinges. He remembered that it used to creak in the summer, so his mom always knew when he and Kaleb were home from school. Memories flooded back, of smells and sounds. This house used to be a home. Noah's home.

The front walk was cluttered with weeds and bark dust that had sprung from the lifeless flowerbeds bordering the wraparound porch. Noah approached slowly, his body tense. There didn't seem to be anyone around—not in the house or on the street. There was no noise, no movement. When he'd lived here, there was always someone outside, walking a dog, weeding a garden, grabbing a late paper from under their porch. Noah glanced around, wary of the lack of activity.

The top step of the porch creaked underneath his slight weight, just as it always did. Nostalgia wormed its way into Noah's train of thought but he quickly derailed it. He didn't know why he'd ended up here, but it wasn't good to reminisce on what he no longer had.

The interior of the house was empty. Worn wooden floors creaked as he stepped through the doorway and was met with the sight of a familiar staircase, flanked by two large doorways on either side. One led to a very big kitchen, he remembered. The other into a room that had been something like a family rec area.

You shouldn't be here, the voice in his head warned. You know what happens when you dwell on the past.

Noah took a right, away from the kitchen. He wondered what the room had become, if there would be any trace of his family left inside it. It was stupid to look, he knew. He was trespassing on private property, and on memories better left tucked in the back of his mind.

Yet, something that drove him on—a thing that wasn't the voice in his head or the nagging threat of destruction. A feeling inside him, a gnawing in his gut. He couldn't identify it, but the feeling was strong enough to pull him into this house, this street. It felt foolish to ignore it completely—more foolish than entering a strange old house from a life he barely remembered.

The room to the right of the staircase was empty. Noah stared at the blank yellow walls. He couldn't remember if they had always been that color. His eyes roamed around the room to the fireplace and the iron grate standing in front of the hearth. Slowly, he moved through the doorway to look at the ashes that remained plastered to the brick interior. Noah crouched down and touched the flecks of paper-thin, slate colored ash, rubbing it between his fingers. Cinders were just the echoes of former things, just like this house.

"Hey, what are you doing here? You guys weren't supposed to show up until tomorrow."

Noah twisted around too quickly, losing his balance and falling back against the brickwork. His eyes bulged in shock, unaccustomed to being surprised like this. He gaped at the girl who stood in the doorway, wavy brown hair hanging loosely down the front of her smiley face t-shirt, the toes of her sneakers turned toward one another. Her knees were slightly bent beneath the shaggy hems of her shorts, and she chewed on the knuckle of her left thumb. She was grinning down at Noah behind her hand, but quickly closed her mouth as he scrambled to his feet.

"Who are you?" she asked, tucking the tips of her fingers into one pocket.

Noah was now on his feet, but feeling considerably less steady than he had a moment ago. He brushed the hair away from his eyes before awkwardly clearing his throat. "I'm...nobody." He replied.

The girl's curved eyebrow arched a little higher as she looked at him.

"Excuse me," he mumbled absently, taking a step toward her. The front door was still open. He could see the yard over her left shoulder, and felt an urgent need to be outside. But the girl didn't move. She spread her arms out instead, completely blocking the doorway.