Drowning Mind

1

He rolled down the car window, letting the cold autumn air slice through the cabin. The wind carried with it the scent of damp earth and decaying leaves, a sharp reminder of endings. Andy exhaled slowly, watching the fog of his breath dissipate in the chill. He was a master at ruining his life. No matter what it was—relationships, family, or even his own sense of peace—it all seemed to fall apart under his touch.The car's engine hummed softly beneath him, but the noise did little to drown out the voice in his head. His father's words, cruel and unyielding, clung to him like a weight. 

You're a disappointment.

The insult echoed, relentless, as though it had found a permanent home in the recesses of his mind. Andy tightened his grip on the steering wheel, his knuckles white with tension. He could still see his father's face from that night, the disappointed furrow in his brow, the slow shake of his head when Andy had told him about the divorce.

The sting of that moment hadn't dulled. If anything, it festered, growing sharper with every mile that passed. 

Maybe he was right. Maybe Andy  was a disappointment—a man who could never get anything right. Not even with someone like Susanna.

Susanna. Her name brought a fresh wave of regret. She had been everything he wasn't. Calm, patient, understanding—perfect in every way. He'd loved her, but loving her hadn't been enough. He couldn't hold on to her, couldn't stop the cracks from widening until their marriage shattered. The image of her face, filled with a sadness that she tried to hide, flashed before his eyes. How had he failed so completely, even with her?The cold wind bit at his face as he continued down the empty country road, its long stretch winding through fields now stripped bare by the season. Autumn was a time of decay, and it seemed fitting. His marriage, his future, his self-worth—they were all withering away, just like the dying leaves that swirled in the wind outside.Finally, the old farmhouse came into view, nestled between the skeletal trees, its wooden structure standing alone like a forgotten relic of the past. The place where his grandfather had lived, where he had spent many childhood summers, seemed different now—harsher, colder, just like everything else in his life. He parked the car, the engine's low rumble cutting off abruptly. Silence settled over him like a heavy blanket.He sat there for a moment, unmoving, staring at the house. The thought of going inside, of facing the echoing loneliness of the empty rooms, filled him with a quiet dread. But there was no one here to judge him, no one to remind him of his failures. No one to scold him anymore.And that, perhaps, was the only comfort this place offered.Andy stepped out of the car and closed the door behind him with a dull thud, the sound swallowed by the stillness of the countryside. He pulled his jacket tighter around him, as if trying to shield himself from more than just the cold. His father's voice still lingered, faint but ever-present. You're a disappointment.