It had been a long day at the office and the monotonous rocking of the train was lulling Brentley to sleep. He feebly tried to stay awake, not wanting to miss his stop but it would not have mattered. He was on auto pilot after so many years and his arm went up on its own, pulling the greasy yellow cord before falling back down to lie limply atop his crumpled hat. He closed his eyes and sighed.
Brentley pulled into his drive way, unaware of the road he had taken to get there. He didn’t even notice the unusual number of cars parked in his driveway. All he wanted was to sit back in his beloved arm chair, perfectly molded to his body after so long and gaze out the window. He would sit there for hours sometimes, oblivious to his wife’s dissatisfaction, always watching until the sun met the horizon. It was the closest he came to happiness in a life that had lost all purpose long ago.
Brentley reached into his pocket and pulled out his keys. He removed his hat as he opened the door, already prepared to place it on the hat rack just inside the door. His mind reeled as a loud scream pierced the air and something jumped to block his way. He was overwhelmed by a sense of wrongness, even before the images in front of him had time to register. He saw Richard, hands thrown out towards him as if to stop him, a look of horror painted on his face. His wife’s sister with arms gripped tight around his wife, mouth still open in a scream, tear streaks fresh on her face. His wife standing there, silently. Accusingly.
A moment of profound disappointment seemed to flash across her face before she hit the floor.
