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Disclaimer: Nothing is mine, except the squeak of your floorboards.

Welcome Home

By Serendipitous Cake

Twittering birds sang the melody, little tongues inside their tiny beaks, beckoning, "Come home."

The trees rustled at the gentle touch of wind, laughing, staving off the sorrow that had long clenched at his heart. "Come home," they said.

Twigs snapped beneath his feet, brittle, broken, fallen from trees with hearts carved into them. "Come home."

Leaves crinkled like the smile lines around the eyes of aged faces. "Come home," they welcomed.

The wooden steps creaked beneath his feet like tired bones, weathered. "Welcome home." They smiled.

His palms were sweaty from the long walk, the rushing stride up the hill. They were wet like tears, crying onto the door knocker. "Welcome home," they wept.

The hinges needed oil, tired of the mechanical swing day after day. They squeaked like a stifled cry. "Home."

The floorboards yielded to his feet, celebrating his homecoming, having missed him terribly during his absence. "Welcome Home," they cried.

Words caught in his throat, tears waiting in the wings of his eyes. He wanted to speak, but everything he could have said, he felt that she somehow already knew.

"Welcome home," she said.

"Home," the wind whistled.

"Home," the mattress entreated.

"Home," her touch soothed.

"Home."

His soul rested.

Fin

AN: Inspired by the song "Coming Up Close" by ‘Til Tuesday.

"Coming up close, everything sounds like ‘welcome home.’"









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