Going Home.

         Will leaned against his car, gazing at the vacant house, his breath coming frosty plumes. It sure was cold. He grinned a small grin to himself. Jack London. How long ago had he read that? He knew he must be tired too, usually such thoughts didn’t amuse him that much, or that easily. The pings and ticks of the car’s cooling engine were the only sounds in the frigid December night. He had been back in town for about half an hour. It was midnight, the drive back from Baton Rogue had taken a lot longer than he had anticipated, and he’d been gone much longer than he’d wanted to be, working as a freelance writer to put himself through school. Surprisingly, he had done quite well for himself. Apparently people had liked his writing for several magazines to invite him back for repeat performances, go figure. Seven months, but it felt like seven years. Yet, while he was driving down Main Street, everything had looked exactly like it had when he had left. Even Andy’s Burger Bin was still there, as unlikely an establishment to succeed in Andrew’s Creek as any he had ever seen.
         “Well, guess there’s really nothing for it.” He said to Nicholas, the black and tan barn cat that had leaped onto the car’s hood and was now rubbing against his arm. “Time to go see what the damage is.”
         He pulled a pair of keys from his pocket, for the lock and deadbolt. Sarcasm reared its ugly head for a moment, and Will couldn’t help thinking that he was lucky the doorknob and deadbolt were still there. From what his parents and sister had told him, even before the his grandmother’s funeral aunts, uncles, and cousins were raiding the house something in the manner of Alaric the Bold’s sacking of Rome in the fifth century. Will slid the keys into the locks and turned each. The knob now turned, but the bolt held. Will frowned for a minute, then he remembered. Right, grandpa put the deadbolt in upside down. He turned the key in the opposite direction and tried the door again. This time it opened, and Will stepped through, Nicholas right behind him. The cat had always been allowed in the house during the day when his grandparents had been alive, and he saw no reason to change that now.
         As he passed through the mudroom, Will saw that the washer and dryer were still there. That was something at least. Probably they had been too big for someone to carry off easily. Will shook his head, there was that sarcasm again. He reached for the handle on door to the main house, and hesitated. Did he really want to do this now? He was tired, he had been on the road for about a day. Wouldn’t it be better for him to come back tomorrow?
         He stood there for a moment, hand on the knob. Nicholas rubbed up against his leg. Yes, he wanted to do this. He didn‘t necessarily want anything, he just wanted to go in and look around. He turned the knob and opened the door.          The house was much the same as it had been while his grandparents were alive. The bedrooms were a little cluttered, but that was hardly anything new. There were sundry objects on the beds, and Will guessed that they were things other relatives wanted. He looked over the objects on the beds. Most of the items were little trinkets and doodads. His grandmother’s thimble collection, an old camera, a pin shaped like a butterfly, a copper wind up sculpture of a piano player that played some obscure ditty; these were things Will neither needed nor particularly wanted.
         Will walked into the main room. Here was the den, kitchen, dining room and living room. Nicholas had already curled up in grandpa’s recliner and fallen asleep.