the long way home [ h.s. ]

Preface | ∅

preface | ∅

☓

He used to run.

The second the doors popped open and made that awful creak noise, and the large yellow vessel screeched to a halt, he was like fire.

Wild, angry fire that couldn't be stopped.

Couldn't be smothered.

And boy, was he fast.

I would watch with my fingertips planted softly on the cool window pane, at him barreling down the pavement with no mercy.

I would stare, completely and utterly in awe, of the way his ratted sneakers beat into the Earth; the way he kicked up rock and dust and dirt, and how he didn't seem to mind the mud splattering his pant legs after rain.

I would puzzle myself over why he did it. Why he would sprint like that; after minutes spent looking out the thick glass with his brows furrowed, and eyes crazed with a sense of terror.

He was electric.

He was on edge.

But mostly, he was afraid.

And I didn't know why for the longest time-- I couldn't fathom why he did what he did.

Every day he hurtled out the doorframe, and into his world that nobody knew about.

And most of the time I watched--

but then he stopped.

One day, all he did was stare into his lap.

His hair hung limp.

His eyes were empty.

He wouldn't look outside at the trees whipping by.

And he didn't run anymore.

☓☓☓

a/n

Hello everybody! So, as you can see, I'm publishing a new story.

'The Long Way Home' should be updated pretty regularly. If things go as planned, it will be finished in late July/early August.

Bless you all!

And, as always, thank you for reading what I write. I appreciate everything you do for me.

:)