No longer a home

The rambling Victorian sat on the corner in front of the high school like a sentinel to adolescent pain and education. In the decade that had passed some had torn down the large oak in the side yard where kids had once huddled sneaking a few illicit drags of nicotine before class. The lawn boasted new landscaping and the porch swing had received copious layers of new paint.

Aislin recalled the weekend that Gideon had asked her and her mother to stay. It was sort of a trial to see if they could all live together before the vows were final. Gideon had decorated Aislin's room with comic book posters, a mini fridge stocked with Mountain Dew and sweet snacks, a bed laden with downy comforts, and a drafting board with enough supplies to write, draw, and ink ten comic books.