Monday, January 21, 2013

100 Words a Day 161

After placing the last box on the truck he took a final walk through the apartment. His footfalls echoed off the white walls. The empty surfaces bled memories. The fresh coat of paint could hide the stains, but never erase what happened. After finishing, he closed the door and dropped the key through the mail slot.

He closed the truck and took one last look, full of sorrow. He pulled himself into the driver’s seat and started the engine. As he drove away it struck him as cliché that he was trying to put distance between himself and what happened.

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