"So, what do you think?"
A young man stood in front of a couple, his neatly pressed suit giving off a professional air. A small tablet rested in his hands as he waited patiently for their response.
The husband turned to his wife. "What do you think, honey? Do you like it?"
Her eyes lit up as she took in the house one last time. "It's perfect. This one is the most beautiful we've seen, and it's close to the city and the schools." A bright smile spread across her face, her excitement unmistakable.
"We'll take it. When can we sign the papers?" the husband asked.
The young agent's lips curled into a confident smile. "You can come by my office tomorrow to finalize everything. I'm happy to say you've made an excellent choice—this is one of the best properties we have on the market."
---
He closed the door, offering a final farewell to the couple before watching them drive away.
"Vvvv! Vvvv!"
A vibration buzzed in his pocket. Pulling out his phone, he glanced at the caller ID—his boss.
He answered. "Hey."
"Ethan, how did it go? Have they decided on a house?" His boss's voice came through, direct as always.
"Yeah, I just closed the deal on the three-bedroom property. They'll be in tomorrow to sign the papers," Ethan replied, making his way toward his car parked by the curb. "They seemed really excited about it."
"Good to hear! Take the rest of the day off—you deserve it. Three sales in one week? That's a new record for you."
"Thank you, boss," Ethan answered before ending the call.
He waited until the call had disconnected before slipping into his car. With a deep sigh, he caught his reflection in the rearview mirror. Loosening his tie but letting it hang around his neck, he then unfastened his suit jacket, allowing himself to breathe.
Turning the key, the engine rumbled to life. He had the rest of the day off, so there was only one place to go.
Home.
---
The drive was quiet, the streets familiar yet distant. By the time he pulled up to his parents' house, the sun was already starting to dip behind the rooftops. He stepped inside, greeted by the faint aroma of home-cooked food and the warmth of a place he hadn't truly felt at home in for years.
Then, his gaze landed on the trophy shelf in the living room.
Rows of shining medals, plaques, and trophies—each one a reminder of who he used to be. A high school track star, the name Ethan Carter once spoken with admiration. He could almost hear the distant echoes of cheers, feel the rush of wind against his skin as he sprinted toward the finish line.
Now?
All of it was just a past he couldn't outrun.
"Ethan! You're here," his mother's voice pulled him from his thoughts. "Come sit, dinner's almost ready."
He forced a small smile, pushing the memories aside. "Yeah… I figured I'd drop by."
Because no matter how much had changed, this place—his parents—still mattered.
Ethan rinsed his hands in the sink before making his way to the dining table.
"So, where's Dad? Don't tell me he's still helping Uncle Tim with his truck," he asked his mother, shaking his head.
Before she could respond, a deep voice rumbled from the corner.
"And what's wrong with that? I might be injured, but I can still move my fingers."
Ethan turned to see his father leaning back in his chair, raising his left hand—the one wrapped in a cast—and flexing his fingers as if to prove a point.
"Hey, Dad. How's your hand?"
His father grunted. "Feels just about healed, but the damn cramps are a real pain."
"Language, dear," his mother cut in, throwing him a pointed look.
"Oh, come on, Linda. He's a grown man. I'm pretty sure he's said worse."
Ethan chuckled as his parents fell into their usual back-and-forth. He had long since learned to tune out their bickering, but he couldn't stop the small smile that crept onto his lips.
No matter how much had changed, some things always stayed the same.
---
They now sat around the table, eating the meal his mother had prepared.
"So, how did the deal go? The one with that couple—you mentioned it last night on the phone. And why are you here so early? You usually leave work around eight," his mother asked, drawing Ethan's attention from his plate.
"It went well. They're coming in tomorrow to sign the papers," he replied, taking a sip of water. "And my boss told me to take the rest of the day off. Three sales in a week—it's a new record for me."
His father let out a low whistle. "Not bad, kid. Maybe I should've gone into real estate instead of breaking my damn hand working on trucks."
"Language," his mother scolded again, earning an exaggerated sigh from his father.
Ethan smirked, shaking his head as he focused on his food. This was normal—his father's gruffness, his mother's gentle but firm corrections. It was comforting in its own way.
Just as he was about to take another bite, the TV in the living room buzzed with a breaking news alert.
"We interrupt this program to bring you urgent updates from multiple locations across the country..."
Ethan turned his head slightly, catching glimpses of grainy footage flashing across the screen.
Smoke billowed from a collapsed bridge, the wreckage of cars barely visible through the haze. In another clip, a terrified man pointed toward the sky, his voice shaking as he spoke to a reporter. The camera panned up, and for a brief second, a dark, shifting shape could be seen above the clouds before the screen cut back to the news anchor.
"Authorities are still investigating the cause of these anomalies. Officials advise the public to remain indoors until further notice..."
Ethan frowned, his fork pausing mid-air. "What the hell was that about?"
His father shrugged. "Probably just some gas leak or a hoax. The news hypes everything up these days."
"Still, it's strange," his mother murmured, adjusting her glasses as she squinted at the screen. "A bridge collapsing and then… that thing in the sky?"
Ethan stared at the screen a second longer, the image of the dark shape lingering in his mind. But then he exhaled, shaking it off. It wasn't his problem.
He finished his meal and excused himself, heading toward his old room—the one his parents had never bothered to change.
It felt smaller than he remembered, though the familiar scent of old books and fabric softener remained. Tossing his jacket onto a chair, he grabbed a towel and headed for a shower.
The hot water loosened his muscles, washing away the exhaustion of the day. Yet, as he lay down afterward, his eyes drifted toward the trophies on the shelf, the ones that weren't placed in the living room.
Golden figures of runners mid-stride. Engraved plaques with his name.
A lifetime ago, these had meant everything.
Now?
They were just reminders of a past he couldn't change.
His gaze lingered for a moment longer before he sighed and closed his eyes. Tomorrow was another day.
And whatever was happening in the world, it had nothing to do with him.
(I'M PARTICIPATING THE SPIRITY CONTEST SO ANYTHING HELPS.ADD THE BOOK IF YOU LIKE IT SO FAR.)