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madeleines
Quinn standing outside the house where I grew up:
The glass in the door is new but otherwise the front of the house has not changed. The iron gate, the stoop, the wooden doors, even the serifed house numbers on the wall -- all exactly the same as they were when I was eighteen, when I was twelve, when I was five. He wanted to go in. I said we couldn't because it's not our house any more.
As we were driving away I watched a woman in her early fifties jogging down the street with two big white dogs. She turned in and as I passed I watched her opening the door at 396 and shooing her dogs inside. I slowed down and nearly said something.
Then I swallowed and kept driving.
The glass in the door is new but otherwise the front of the house has not changed. The iron gate, the stoop, the wooden doors, even the serifed house numbers on the wall -- all exactly the same as they were when I was eighteen, when I was twelve, when I was five. He wanted to go in. I said we couldn't because it's not our house any more.
As we were driving away I watched a woman in her early fifties jogging down the street with two big white dogs. She turned in and as I passed I watched her opening the door at 396 and shooing her dogs inside. I slowed down and nearly said something.
Then I swallowed and kept driving.