Is That Mom

Part 4 of Chapter 1

Chapter 1:

The Weight of the Past

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Part 4:

The Decision to Search for the Truth

E

than stepped outside, the attic’s musty scent still clinging to his clothes, as the afternoon sun began its slow descent behind the hills. The air was cool, carrying with it the faint smell of rain, and the distant rumble of thunder hinted at an approaching storm. For a moment, he stood on the porch, staring out at the familiar landscape—the winding road, the rusted fences, the old oak tree that had stood in the yard longer than he could remember. It all felt so unchanged, so predictable, and yet he was beginning to see it differently, as if there were secrets buried beneath the surface of everything he had ever known.

His thoughts kept drifting back to the attic, to the photograph of his mother and the letter with its faded, indecipherable words. The image of her, half-turned, with that distant, enigmatic smile, was seared into his mind. It was like she was teasing him, daring him to find her, to piece together the puzzle of her disappearance. For the first time in his life, Ethan felt a spark of determination, a resolve that cut through the fog of his everyday routine. He was done waiting, done accepting half-truths and evasions. If his family wouldn't give him the answers he sought, he would find them himself.

He knew where he had to start. The local library was small, a relic of the past like so many things in the town, but it was the only place he could think of where he might find information about his mother's disappearance. It was an odd feeling, realizing that he was about to step into a place he had avoided his whole life. It wasn’t that Ethan disliked libraries—he simply never felt the need to visit. But now, it felt like the key to understanding everything, a place where he might find some record of her, some forgotten newspaper article that would shed light on what had happened all those years ago.

The library was just a short walk from his house, but the journey felt longer than usual. Ethan kept his head down, hands stuffed into the pockets of his jacket, as if by doing so he could avoid the curious glances of people passing by. In a town this small, everyone knew everyone else, and it wouldn’t take long for word to spread that Ethan was digging into things best left alone. He could almost hear the whispers already, the hushed conversations that would stop whenever he entered the room.

The library was quiet when he arrived, a small brick building that looked like it hadn’t been updated in decades. The sign out front was faded, the paint peeling around the edges, and the front steps creaked under his weight as he climbed them. Inside, the air was still and cool, filled with the faint, comforting smell of old books. Rows of shelves stretched out in every direction, casting long shadows across the floor, and the only sound was the soft rustle of pages being turned somewhere in the back.

Ethan hesitated for a moment, unsure of where to begin. He had come here on a whim, driven by a sudden, inexplicable need to learn more about his mother, but now that he was here, he felt strangely out of place. It was as if he had stepped into a different world, one where the rules were unfamiliar and nothing made sense. He was about to turn and leave when he heard a voice behind him.

“Can I help you?”

He turned to see a woman standing by the desk, her glasses perched on the edge of her nose. She was older, with gray hair pulled back into a neat bun, and she regarded him with a kind but curious expression, as if she could sense his unease. Ethan cleared his throat, suddenly aware of how nervous he felt. “I’m… I’m looking for old newspapers,” he said, trying to sound casual. “From about twenty years ago. Do you have those here?”