2

It's time to leave. After 18 years of living in the same, old house, we're moving. I'm not excited, nor am I sad. There's nothing for me here, no feelings of guilt or regret that I'm leaving anything important behind. The new city isn't promising, either.

"Come on, Micah, I'm sure you'll make some friends! Stop glaring!" From behind me, the voice of my sister Lucy appears.

I want to tell her this is my usual face, as I always do, but she never listens. So I save the energy to sigh instead. "I don't need friends. I don't care about leaving," I tell her.

"Moving will be good for you, though. The reason I decided to move was because it felt like the best decision. Luck will be on our side once we've moved to that city, I'm sure," my dad joins us.

"You and your obsession with luck.. When do you make a decision that isn't based on it?" Lucy laughs.

"Well, I got it from your grandma. Can't help it," he responds with a smile of his own.

I don't really fit in well with this happy duo . All of us are loud, though I am mostly screaming out of frustration, while they always laugh and have fun.

"I'm gonna see how mom's doing," I say, already getting a headache. My mother is more like me. She's quiet, not very social, and doesn't have an unlimited amount of happiness. Though, she doesn't have my temper. She's calm.

And it's exactly that that makes us get along so well. She doesn't judge, we don't need to talk, and even if I'm mad, she barely reacts, making me feel like all reasons I had for being angry are silly.

"We'll be going soon," I tell her when I find her in what used to be our storage room.

She nods. Her gaze is fixed on the empty closet in front of her.

"What's wrong?" Normally, she'd look at me when we talk. "You're gonna miss it?"

"Lost something." With a frown, she walks up to the closet. "It's empty. I know it is. But there's one thing that should still be there..."

I follow her example, examining the closet for a short while. "Must be somewhere in a box. Let's go." Without another word, we walk out of the room. Though I can still feel her hesitation, I ignore it. No time for this sentimental shit.

"Everybody ready?" my father asks as soon as we go in the living room.

With an excited 'yes' from Lucy, and silent nods of me and my mother, we leave the house, where I have grown up and spent my entire childhood, closing the door for the last time.

It doesn't take long for the two overemotional persons to switch from being extremely happy to being awfully sad.

"Dad, I'm gonna miss our house so much," my sister cries out.

"It'll be fine. The memories will stay forever," my father answers, already sobbing himself.

"But I'll never get to step through that door again," she continues.

"You can do it, my little girl, don't cry; you'll be fine." The drama goes on.

"Would you two shut up already?" I groan, annoyed. This will be a long drive.

"You're so apathetic, Micah! I really hope we can find someone that can warm up that stone cold heart of yours," Lucy pouts.

"I don't think anything can. Even if the sun were to get to it, he'd stay the same," my dad laughs.

The sun. The only thing I trust. The only thing I admire. It comes every day, without fail, lighting up the world. Everything comes to life under its warmth. Every single time, it shows itself. It gives us all, and doesn't ask for anything in return.

It is no surprise that I fell in love with the personification of the sun not soon after.