[ WP ] Mother just came home , but she 's been dead for 10 years .

I sit on the living room couch, legs crossed, laptop burning my thighs. The sound of the screen door opening catches my attention, its familiar creaking signalling that my brother has returned home from work. The footsteps that follow, however, aren ’ t the usual heavy thumping that I associate with my brother. These aren ’ t the footsteps of a stranger, though. It ’ s a sound that triggers something in my brain, something that I haven ’ t thought about in years. 
 
 “ Allen? ” I call out, setting my laptop aside and rising from the sofa. 
 
 A woman ’ s voice calls out, “ Nope. It ’ s me. ” 
 
 I round the corner, peering down the hallway. My mom has come home. She ’ s hanging up her house keys and setting her purse down on the stairs near the door like always. She ’ s wearing the outfit I ’ d last seen her leave the house in, blue jeans and a floral patterned t-shirt. 
 
 My brain struggles to register what I ’ m seeing. I ’ m having flashbacks to the night that a police officer had come through that door to inform me that my mother wasn ’ t going to be coming home. But here she was. 
 
 I can no longer feel my arms and legs. I feel like a torso floating in space; I can ’ t breathe. My mom looks at me, noticing my distressed expression. “ What ’ s the matter? ” she asked, her voice holding the genuine concern she had always put toward my brother and me. 
 
 I open my mouth to answer, but I make no sound. It feels like my brain is short circuiting. The vision of my mother in front of me is suddenly blurred and distorted by black spots. The only things I am able to comprehend after that are my mother ’ s screams and the feeling of the cool hallway tile against my cheek. 

