Vices II

Paul pushed the key into the door. His wife and children surrounded him, silently, in anticipation, waiting. Paul ground his teeth, jammed the final millimeters of the key into the lock, and twisted it sharply. The door, painted a mellow red, swung open. The house was clean, it looked almost untouched, perfect, save a few of Bonnie's toys littered on the floor. Paul led the way inside, the rest of his family left some distance before melancholically sauntering inside.


Paul looked around, and sighed loudly. Nothing in the house had changed, but the atmosphere, the feeling, was drastically different. The floral wallpaper, yellow and peeling, seemed darker. That's what Paul then placed. The house seemed darker than usual. Maybe it was just in his head, after all it was the middle of the day, and the sun was shining brightly now, the rain clouds had faded away. Nancy led her young sister up the old staircase to their joint room, leaving Paul and Gloria alone.

Gloria sighed, collapsing in her armchair. Paul merely stood in the center of the rug, his hands firmly in his pockets. He observed the rings of dull colour; greens, browns, burgundys - why did he ever buy it? He hated it. Standing on it became increasingly inappropriate. Whilst still looking at the floor, he side stepped off of it.

"Paul," Gloria began. Paul had not made a sound since they left the graveyard. He neither coughed nor yawned, sighed nor sneezed. The only evidence that he was still alive was his moving limbs, which he still did in a sort of dazed and mournful manner.

"Paul, it wasn't your fault. We don't blame you, no one does. It just happened." Gloria did her best to prize something from her husband. It had always been difficult, even before their son's passing, to get any overt emotional response from him. He always reserved himself, never showing weakness.

"Paul, you know we still love you and everything you've done-"
"Shut the fuck up Gloria." Paul interjected "I don't need your comforting platitudes. I know what I am. I'm going upstairs, don't follow me."

As Paul walked nonchalantly upstairs, Gloria, back arched, bit her lip and looked at the floor, tears beginning to blur her vision.