The car heater was blowing nothing but cold air, and the windshield was beginning to fog up in the corners. Mark pulled his coat tighter and looked at the clock on the dashboard: 11:14 PM.
He had spent the last two hours driving through a town that looked nothing like it did ten years ago. New roundabouts, generic shopping centers, and streetlights that cast a cold, LED blue over the slushy roads. He felt like a stranger in the place he’d grown up.
He pulled into a gas station to grab a coffee. Inside, the fluorescent lights hummed, and the linoleum floor was tracked with grey, salty water. Behind the counter sat a teenager in a Santa hat that looked like it had been through a war.
"Rough night?" Mark asked, setting a cardboard cup on the counter.
"Standard," the kid shrugged, ringing him up. "People forgot they needed milk for tomorrow. Same thing every year."
Mark walked back out to his car. He took a sip of the coffee—it was terrible, burnt and thin—but the warmth in his hands felt grounded. He was about to put the car in gear when he noticed an old man standing by a payphone that hadn't worked in years. The man was staring at a crumpled piece of paper, looking lost.
Mark rolled down the window. "You need a lift, sir?"
The man looked up, his face a map of deep lines. "I’m looking for the old Miller farm. My daughter said they moved back there, but the GPS on this phone just... it quit on me."
"The Miller place? That’s about four miles out. It's not a farm anymore, just a house with a red barn," Mark said. "Hop in. I’m headed that way."
They drove in silence for a while. The man, whose name was Arthur, told him he’d taken a bus from three states away to surprise his grandkids. He hadn't seen them since before the pandemic.
When they pulled up to the house, the porch light was on, casting a warm yellow glow across the driveway. A wreath with a lopsided bow hung on the door. Before Arthur could even get out of the car, the front door flew open. Two small children in flannel pajamas sprinted out into the cold, shouting, "Grandpa!"
Mark watched for a second as the family collided in a messy, tearful hug in the driveway. No one noticed him leave.
As he drove the final mile to his own parents' house, the cold air from the heater finally turned warm. The town didn't feel quite so unrecognizable anymore. He pulled into his driveway, saw the light left on in the hallway for him, and realized that for the first time in a long time, he was exactly where he was supposed to be.
stake: anahmaryam
