Approaching Home
With each block they passed, Jamie’s heart beat faster. He hadn’t seen his house in two years, but it lived clearly in his mind—the blue shutters, the old oak tree in the yard, the worn path leading to the door. It was all burned into his memory like a photograph.
Though he expected changes—maybe new flowers, maybe a different car in the driveway—he couldn’t shake the feeling that something would feel off. As they turned onto his street, he clutched his duffel bag tighter, wondering if the life he once knew was still waiting behind that front door.
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