Monday Minutes Challenge

For this week's Monday Minute Challenge (link), I'm using the sentence: I'd told myself I would never come back here again ... yet here I am.

I'd told myself I would never come back here again ... yet here I am. My eyes close and I’m back in her house. Our last conversation. The last day.

Why do I even bother?

I open my eyes. Mom says I shouldn’t live in past. Move on. Forgive. Usually, I can handle those things. With her, simple things are complicated.  Mom’s words come back to me. “Are you sure things are complicated? Or are you just making them complicated when they don’t have to be?”

Megan said I had trust issues. We called it quits. I wish I could leave it like that. Before I know it, I’m on her front porch again, staring at the door.

It hasn’t changed. On my left is a swing. That swing. Her laughter echoes in my mind, the happy days.

“Megan,” I call, knocking on the door.

There. I did it. Here we go again.

But a few seconds later, the silence is still there. I know she’s here. Her red car is in the driveway.

I hit the door again. Creak.

The door is cracked. Did she know I was coming? She couldn’t have. I know her. She wouldn’t leave the it cracked on accident.

If she catches me coming in without an invitation, she’ll know how much I miss her. That’s not what I wanted. I step into her house and remember to take off my shoes. The white carpet feels soft against my bare feet.

I listen for her footsteps in the kitchen. Nothing. In the living room, the color red sends my mind in a daze.

A circle shaped blood stain on the carpet. Other than that, the room looks normal. But something’s missing here.

Megan.

Hope you like it!

In Christ,
Sarah