Uncertain Memorie

As he stood at the door he was uncertain if he was making the right choice.

It had been so long since he had heard from them - since he had seen them, known them. He was so small. He wasn't even sure if he remembered them.

Would they remember him?

He was cold. A draft was blowing through the hallway, licking at his exposed skin. He pulled his coat tighter around his neck and he stood waiting. He had knocked but heard nothing.

He saw himself in the eyepiece - so small and featureless.

Is that how they would perceive him if they opened the door? He straighten as a creak from a floorboard escaped from inside the apartment.

It had been so long since they given up on him.

But now, he was home.