Word Limit: 200 words
It’s been a long time since I was last here. It doesn’t feel like it was that long ago though.
Over there is where we used to race and play our games, you’d be the cop and I’d be the robber. And that spot there is where mum bandaged up my knee and way over there is the old Ice Creamery. Who’d have thought little old me would be so nostalgic, pining for the days when it was all fun, games and make believe.
The house is old and pretty wrecked, door caved in and tiles cracked. But you know even still, it feels like home to me. Don’t remember the last time I felt like this, standing at the window looking in.
Catch myself standing still, not sure if I can get in but knowing I want to. I want to go home, that’s what I’d thought when I saw you on a musky November evening and that’s how I found myself standing here. I suppose sometimes home is just where the heart is but it can be a place the soul remembers.
Turning around, I half expect to see you here- but of course you wouldn’t be, this isn’t home to you.
A/N: Check out Tim’s work HERE.