Jacob Miller and his overweight wife Madison were teachers at George-Illinois Elementary, a public school with too many students and not enough funding. School had ended early due to a snowstorm, but they had to stay late and grade incomplete assignments with terrible spelling. By the time they left, it was dark out and snow covered the streets.

“Be careful. You know the car doesn’t drive so well in the cold,” said Madison. This was the third time she had said so in as many minutes. He knew how to drive.

Suddenly, Jacob hit the brakes. The road was blocked, and he could see why. A car had skidded over a hidden patch of ice and crashed into a nearby tree. Medics were carrying the survivors into an ambulance while police officers recorded what had happened and diverted traffic. It was horrifying.

“That could have been us,” Madison whispered. She looked like she was about to cry.

Jacob said nothing and turned the car around. He would find another way home. This was the last thing he needed after teaching little kids and then correcting their work all day long. He wanted to go home. He needed to go home. He just thought about home and ignored everything else.

Taken from Royal Road, this narrative should be reported if found on Amazon.

Another minute passed before Jacob parked the car. He was home, and safe from the day’s stress.

“Where are we?” Jacob didn’t hear his wife. He was home. Looking up, he saw something he had forgotten about for years.

A wooden building covered in snow, looking very much like a gingerbread house. Christmas lights wound around the porch and doorway. The smell of roast chicken filled the air, and Jacob could hear a woman calling him for supper. He got out of his car, ignoring the useless babbling of his wife. Jacob was transfixed by this picture of childhood happiness, something he hadn’t experienced in a long time.

Jacob walked up the stairs. His hand was outstretched, so close to the doorknob. He was so close to it, to this perfect scene, when a hand clamped on his shoulder and he felt anger.

“What are you doing at this disgusting place?” Couldn’t she just shut up? Especially when he was finally home?

Jacob huffed and turned back to his childhood home, ready to go back to simpler days- only to find an abandoned, falling apart house. The Christmas lights were old and broken and the roast chicken was a rotting animal of some kind. The woman’s voice came from a neighbouring house, meant for her children, not him. And Jacob remembered again, remembered a sick lady, unable to hang new christmas lights or cook chicken. A sick lady who left his life and never came back.

So Jacob walked back to his old car, sat next to his annoying wife and drove to the cramped apartment that he now called home. And he couldn’t stop thinking, ‘It used to be so much better’.