Shadows of the Past

Alessa Gillespie

The last box had finally made its way into the condo. With a heavy sigh, Thomas collapsed onto the sofa, letting his body sink into the cushions as he surveyed his new surroundings. The place was spacious yet cozy enough to feel inviting. The living room opened to a balcony that offered a breathtaking view of the city of West Virginia. The stars shimmered against the dark canvas of the night sky, a quiet reminder of the fresh start he had chosen for himself.

The day had been grueling. Hours spent hauling boxes and furniture up to the new space left his muscles aching and his energy completely drained. For now, the chaos of unpacked boxes scattered around the room could wait. He leaned back, closing his eyes for a moment, allowing the hum of the city and the gentle rustle of leaves to ease his exhaustion.

The buzzing sound of his phone jolted Thomas awake. He blinked rapidly, disoriented, as the dim glow of the living room slowly came into focus. He hadn't even realized he'd drifted off on the sofa. His phone, still vibrating on the coffee table, pulled his attention.

Reaching for it, he noticed Sarah's name on the screen and opened the messages. She'd sent several, asking if he was alright, if the move had gone smoothly, and if he needed anything. A small smile tugged at his lips as he read her words. Typing a quick response to reassure her, he realized the time displayed at the top of the screen—4:00 AM.

Thomas sighed, running a hand through his hair as his gaze shifted to the boxes stacked haphazardly around the condo. The weight of the long day pressed down on him again, but so did a strange sense of accomplishment. He was here. This was his space now.

With a tired yawn, he placed the phone down and leaned back on the sofa, staring out at the faint hint of dawn creeping into the sky. Tomorrow—or rather, later today—he'd tackle the chaos of unpacking. For now, he let the quiet moment wash over him, feeling the first glimmers of peace he hadn't felt in a long time.

After about an hour of restless tossing on the sofa, Thomas decided to stop procrastinating and make himself useful. He shuffled into the kitchen, determined to tackle the boxes stacked along the walls.

He worked quickly, the hum of the coffee maker becoming a soothing backdrop as he placed dishes into cupboards and arranged small appliances on the counter. By the time the coffee cups found their spot in the cabinet, the aroma of freshly brewed coffee filled the air. He poured himself a mug and took a deep sip, letting the warmth wake him fully before moving to the next room.

As the sun began to rise, golden light poured into the living room, casting a soft glow over the space. The hours ticked by as Thomas steadily unpacked, organizing each box's contents with meticulous care. By the time he looked down at his watch, it was nearly four in the afternoon, and his stomach growled in protest.

He sighed, glancing from the spotless kitchen to the half-unpacked stack of boxes in the living room. Cooking could wait.

"Takeout, it is," he muttered, pulling his phone from his pocket.

Scrolling through local options, Thomas settled on a Chinese restaurant not far from his building. His stomach growled louder with every picture on the menu, urging him to confirm his order quickly. With a satisfied tap on the Place Order button, he set his phone on the coffee table and turned his attention to the daunting stack of boxes surrounding him.

He dove into the task, unpacking movies, books, decorative trinkets, and fake plants, carefully arranging them in their new spots. Piece by piece, the condo began to feel more like a home.

When the food arrived, Thomas laid everything out on the living room table, only to realize he'd forgotten to order something to drink. With a resigned sigh, he wandered to the fridge. Inside, the sparse contents—a few convenience store snacks picked up on the drive from Pennsylvania—greeted him. His eyes landed on a single bottle tucked in the back. Grabbing it, he let out a tired sigh and returned to the couch.