words;

[quix_esque]

Hope comes in waves as soon as the umbrella falls from your hands, its fabric catching the rain and making it pool. I'm home, you try to say as you push open the front door, but you've been screaming into the storm for the past two hours and you're pulling off your soaked shoes so your voice is ragged and small. I'm sorry; I'm back; I'll cook this once, I promise, but nobody hears you.

The house is just as empty as he had left it.

-x-

I kind of want to expand it. Maybe. Not sure how yet, though.