Erik stopped dead in his tracks. In all his enthusiasm to sell newspapers, he hadn't given any thought to the neighborhood where he had been assigned. Now, standing in front of his mother's house, he realized exactly where he was. This wasn't his childhood home; it was the place his mother had moved when he had gone away to college and she and Erik's father had split up. He had only been there a couple of times for holidays when he was in school, but still couldn't believe that he didn't recognize it right away.
The last time he had seen or spoken to his mother was ten years ago. She partly blamed Erik for her divorce, and Erik had never really forgiven her for putting him in the middle of their marriage troubles. Visits became fewer and fewer, followed by the conversations, and soon years and years had passed without them speaking.
Now Erik was standing in front of her house. The lights were on and the familiar Chevy Impala was parked in the driveway. She was home.
What should he do? Should he knock on the door, or should he move on to the next house?
Copyright 2000 - 2024 21 x 20 Media All rights reserved. This site is property of 21 x 20 Media
All Writing.Com images are copyrighted and may not be copied / modified in any way. All other brand names & trademarks are owned by their respective companies.
Generated in 0.09 seconds at 10:31am on Nov 23, 2024 via server WEBX1.
View Portfolio
Visit Notebook
Send Gift Points
Awards
Badges
Send Email
Community Newsfeed
General Discussion
Sponsored Items
Book of Trinkets
Static Items
Books
Groups
Interactive Stories
Audio
Campfire Creatives
Community Notes
Crossword Puzzles
Documents
Folders
Images
In & Outs
Madlibs
Photo Albums
Polls
Product Reviews
Quizzes
Survey Forms
Web Pages
Word Searches
More by this author
