seem no closer to the ceiling’s wooden rafters than when they started climbing, but everything below them appears far small and far away. They stop at one of the doorways. “This one is ours.” The woman says as she slowly opens the portal. Beyond he can see the bright light of the sun, and a color he has not viewed in a long time: green. He steps out into a small glade of lush vegetation. There are thick, healthy trees and tall grasses surrounding what he sees as his home from before, but the abode is somehow better than the actual two story brick house they used to live in; it’s the eternal image of what he always wanted. His wife pulls him in further. As they enter the house, he can smell that unique smell of one’s own home. Both of his children, Lawrence and the one that was dead, are waiting there, happy as can be. Though he knows that this Lawrence is younger than the real one, he needs to pretend. Marcus embraces the two smiling children and then takes a seat on the soft, earth brown suede couch that isn’t riddled with holes like it’s counterpart on the outside. He wants to believe, he can finally relax and the empty shell that he has been feels less hollow now. He can close his eyes, free from worry. The embrace of his loved ones is warm and he can imagine that he has succeeded in protecting his family and keeping everything together instead of having to face the stark reality of their deaths. “I want to believe,” he says. The outside world where his son starves and Marcus feels like a failure seems only like a dream now, but he knows good does not come so easily. “Where does all of this come from?” He waves his hand in
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