every road leads to an end
@perrycontreras
Ransacked.
That was one word to describe the park ranger’s house: completely and utterly ransacked.
Faust barely felt a thing as he stepped over the threshold into the home, only an odd sense of emptiness. He quietly took it all in- the layer of dust that was covering the furniture, the dirt and the cockroaches and all the broken things, and the places where things should be, but no longer were. And he felt that lingering sense of emptiness in the house, felt it in his bones.
He moved on to check the bedrooms.
He found himself in the one room of the house that was, somehow, mostly untouched. Everything seemed to be as it had been left; the old cluttered desk, the sagging bookshelf, the broadway posters.
It was a few minutes later when he heard the creak of the door behind him, and the telltale sound of footsteps approaching him. Perry was no doubt coming in to check whether or not Faust had found what they’d been looking for.
“I found the keys to the truck,” Faust said, “I’m just...” he didn’t know how to explain. He just shrugged and showed Perry what he was holding; a cracked frame with a family photo in it. His own family photo.
“I guess I should have explained sooner,” Faust said, “that I used to live here.”
