Word Count: 417
With a flashlight by his side, he slid the building blocks out of their easy-cary suitcase, stopping to hand-pick out the last few that clunked, and pushed them all under his bed. He tip-toed to the dresser and slowly opened each drawer just enough to reach in and pull out two pairs of jeans, a few tee-shirts, and three days’ worth of underwear. He froze when a handle clinked as he let go. Then he dressed quickly and filled the small suitcase with the rest of the clothes. He tied a double-knot in his sneakers, pulled on his blue denim jacket and just before closing the suitcase he snuck Teddy in. He was ready to leave home.
Gripping the case in one hand and the turned-off flashlight in the other, he silently pulled open the door and looking both ways down the hall, stepped as lightly as he could down the stairs, avoiding the second to the last step he knew would creak and give him away.
He went out the back door from the kitchen and as an afterthought, grabbed the bag of white bread on the counter. He took the half-filled jar of peanut butter too. He wanted jelly but decided against opening the refrigerator door. He stood on the back step, the door held an inch from full-closing, and took a deep breath and thought about things for a moment. Because he had turned the lock button on the door. Because this was it. Then he carefully pulled the door shut.
The sidewalk was darker than he’d thought it would be. Behind him his house grew smaller with each step. He imagined his mom coming in to wake him in the morning. How surprised and sad she would be to see that he wasn’t there. Then she’d feel bad she hadn’t let him watch his favorite TV show even though his dad said he couldn’t because he hadn’t eaten his dinner. Where he was going he would never have to eat green beans. He could watch TV whenever he wanted. Back at home, his mother and father would miss him terribly and be sorry. Someday he might even come back and visit them. He would bring ice cream for dinner.
Meanwhile, the house grew smaller more slowly each time he turned around to look. But it was small enough where he didn’t see his dad come down the front steps and slowly grow bigger behind him.
