The doorbell rung out, loud and sharp, shattering the perfect serenity of the house. Now was a time of trial. And a painful awakening from an agoraphobia dream. There was nothing for him out there. Nothing at all.
Legs ached, as they stretched to lift a body from an old dusty chair. Each footstep that connected with the ground creaked and snapped at the uncarpeted floorboards. This news would not be good. Unless... Tension boiled in his stomach as he neared the door, trembling hands reaching for the handle. Was it her? After all this time?
Hesitation. A heart thudded manically filling his ears with it's drumbeat. It was his own. He wanted to feel that joy again, climbing his spine and lighting a smile that was long forgotten. To see her smile. But as these thoughts crowded his head, he tried to shut them out, as he knew he would just be met by bitter disappointment.
Uncertainity. He leaned toward the eyepiece, and felt his stomach sink. Two policemen. Heads bowed. Bad news. The doorbell split the air again, its chime echoing and reverberating in the hall. He pressed his head on the door. It was cool.
"Sir, we need to talk to you. Please open the door"
He groaned, pounding a fist on the door.
"Please go away" He groaned.
"Sir"
"Go away!" He snapped. "I already know. I know. She's dead. She's dead, isn't she?"
A small silence. Uneasiness, shuffling of feet.
"If you could just let us inside, sir"
That was all he needed to hear. Though he already knew it in the back of his mind, A sudden pain speared through his heart. She had been missing long enough. His hand slipped off of the handle, and he covered his face with it. She was dead. He waited, but the tears did not come. Just... Numbness. His throat felt raw. Right now, he felt a hundred years old. So tired, at the age of thirty three. A sharp rap on the door made him jump.
"Sir"
The hesitation returned. The distrust and the hurt. But still, he felt his hand slide back upon the handle, and gently press down.
