53|All That Remained

The unending silence was one of the reasons Austin hated visiting his childhood home. It hung over the house with a heaviness that almost made it hard to breathe, welcoming him home as soon as he stepped inside. It was so total and complete in its stillness that he was convinced if he had to spend even one night here, he'd go mad.

The place never used to be this gloomy, though. In fact, many of his early memories were filled with vibrant splashes of colour and sounds, and of love and happiness. But then his parents began to spend less and less time together. They'd talked even less, too. By the time his mom died five years ago, life and colour had long left the place, and all that remained were his father's regrets, missed moments, and the unceasing silence.

As Austin strode down the hallway to his father's den, the thick, plush carpet swallowing the sounds of his brisk footsteps, he couldn't help but think about his own place, if it would also turn into a tomb when Marybeth left. The