Finish That Thought, week 22

Prompt: http://alissaleonard.blogspot.com/2013/12/finish-that-thought-22.html

There was only one thing left to do, and then I’d hand over the keys to the new owners. The Johnstons had lived at 223 East Park Street for more than a hundred years, but I would be the last. The promotion was too important to me, and there wasn’t anything keeping me here anymore other than memories and fear. And that box in the basement.

I’d saved it for last, though it was clearly the most important. But I couldn’t trust something like this to the movers. It’s not that what was in the box was fragile, anything but, really. Even the stoutest trees could be felled, however, when struck in the right place, and that box was my right place.

I could have – maybe even should have – disposed of what was in the box long ago. We’d been together so long, though, that I never really considered it. Not seriously, at any rate. I knew how, of course – it wasn’t that hard, when it came right down to it. No one would ever find my wife’s body. I hadn’t wanted to get rid of her like that, but she found us in the basement one day when I thought she was at work, and that was that.

Even after all these years, I expected the box to be heavier than it was, but memories didn’t really have physical weight. I carried it easily up the stairs and out to the truck, where I’d left a place for it on the floor of the front passenger seat.

The last task done now, I shook Bob and Lisa’s hands and prepared to hop into the truck. They’d be good owners for this home, and maybe a new family history would be written here. For me, the last chapter was done. I looked down at the box and smiled, putting the truck into gear. We’d begin a new story in our new home, my sister and I.

 

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