Ultraman was still fighting his nemesis monster near the TV set when I got back from the airport yesterday. Optimus Prime was there to help and so did Bumblebee. Nobody won yet; the toys just stood there in striking poses.
You guys need help? I came close and with just a gentle flick, the monster was down. There you go, the good guys won.
Around the living room were paper planes, some had crashed landed on the floor, others below the settee and on top of the dining table. A blank paper tucked under the sofa, half folded, almost taking the shape of a jet fighter. Can you make me a plane before we go, daddy?
At one corner lay the Godin guitar, the blues had long tapered off, the amps only amplified the silence.
At another corner lay dozens of corrugated paper boxes, stuffed with household items. Stacked on top of the others and propped against the wall, the boxes formed a fort almost half way to the ceiling.
I surveyed the living room, trying to make sense of the hodgepodge. It was as though a family had just moved in the day before and not quite done unpacking. Or was family leaving and in the process of packing?
Any which way, the house was in shamble.
… to be continued