Empty hallway

You know how they say 'Home is where the heart is'? Well, for me it's more like 'Home is where your hearts are', as in wherever your loved ones are, that's home.

~*~

It's Friday, last day of work. I have the entire weekend for myself. My daughter's off to her dads, boyfriend's staying in Helsinki. Time alone is a precious commodity, and I'm looking forward to it. No pressure, no distractions. Just me and my books and whatever tasks I choose to undertake.

Lonewolf?
Me?
Nah.

Stepping through my front door, I could literally feel that there were no loved ones present. My apartment felt cold and empty, nothing more than bricks and plaster, nothing within the walls able to animate it, give it the feel of home. It was eerie as hell. Probably a bit what stepping into a murder scene must feel like. The evidence of everyday life is there to see; a discarded bowl of yogurt on the living room table, computer softly humming, pieces of teenage clothing scattered over the floor - but no pulse, no heartbeat.

Traveling

I hate traveling for work. It might sound like a chance to see the world, but all you really see are the back alleys of whatever hotel you're staying at, and, Oh Yay!: more offices. This is Frankfurt, "behind the scenes".

The master and commander was awaiting my return. Not too pleased with my absence and being cared for by friends of the family, he gave me a glance of utter disapproval and then continued ignoring me.