Todd stepped out of the car. He reached back into the center console and grabbed his key fob. Looking down at the black leather car seat he rubbed his hand over a small mark. He licked the end of his index finger and went over the scratch. It didn’t budge. Probably a scratch.
He went in through the garage, passed the dusty exercise equipment, and closed the door behind him. He placed his keys in the dish by the door and hung his jacket on the peg against the wall next to the washing machine. He walked down the hall to the large dining room and set his bag on the table. He got out his laptop, plugged it in and, checked his cell phone.
He sighed. Thirty Unread emails in the course of a forty-minute ride. He played a voicemail. His mother’s voice, shrill and loving, cut the air. He put the phone down and walked across the hall, through the kitchen, and to the refrigerator.
“Hey honey, you’re old now. Happy belated forty-second birthday. Did you have the kids? Hope they were nice to you. Love you old man!”
If you would like to replay the message press. . .
Todd came back to the table with a beer in hand and erased the message. He left his things on the table and walked up several flights of stairs to the third floor. He stopped and adjusted one of the framed movie posters on the third-floor wall. Recently, he’d taken to collecting foreign movie poster versions of blockbuster movies. The Japanese poster for “The Avengers” sat next to the German poster of “Ant-Man”. He shifted the latter back and forth making sure that the posters appeared level with one another. There was another one on the way. It was an Italian “Spider-Man” poster that looked pretty cool.
On the top floor, he stared at his collection of books spread along the walls. He took a few down and leafed through the pages. So many good memories on the pages. So many more to make, were there the time. He put them all back, deciding on none, and moved to the large leather, sectional couch in the center of the room. He picked up the remote and turned on his eighty-inch high definition television. The documentary he had begun watching the night before about the band, T-Rex, resumed playing. He turned the volume down as the subwoofer and the soundbar kicked on giving a kick to “Bang a Gong”.
Todd watched for a minute longer while sipping on his beer. He switched from the documentary, which he had purchased on Google Play, and then flitted through the offerings on Netflix, Hulu, Amazon Prime, HBO Max, and Apple TV, finding nothing of interest. He finished the beer and turned of the TV. He reclined on his section of the couch and laid back.
He stared at the ceiling for fifteen minutes. At minute twelve of fifteen, he began crying. It would be time to do it again in twelve hours.
An alert on his watch interrupted him. There was movement at the front door. Everyone was home. He got up and went downstairs to help prepare dinner.
