The Photobook
By Kedrick Nettleton
The movers were out the door, and he could
hear them tramping in the hall. From his view by
the window, he could see the moving truck on the
street, see them hauling the last few boxes up the
ramp. He waited a few minutes, watching them as
they secured their cargo, and then drove away. As
the truck waited at the stop light down the street,
he sighed and went to sit down.
There wasn’t much to sit down on, of course.
Most of the furniture had been taken, and all that
was left was the holey sofa that had been in the
apartment when he had moved in. It was gray,
and there were various mystery stains all over the
fabric, but he sat down on it without complaint.
He loved that sofa, every tear and every stain.
As he looked around at his apartment, he
sighed again. On one side, there was a short flight
of steps that led up to the second story, which
really wasn’t more than a loft. On the other, his
small kitchen stood sad and empty. The fridge was
gone, the stove was gone. The only thing left was
his small microwave, which stood on top of one
of two boxes near the door. Next to these was his
suitcase, and a small canvas backpack. The only
possessions he had with him, for now.
He really, really hoped this worked.
If not, the world wouldn’t end. Everyone had
been telling him for weeks how his life was about
to become so much more fulfilling. After all,
California was so much warmer than here – he’d
be only a few miles from the beach, and could
finally work on that tan he had never wanted.
His new job was a promotion in every sense of
the word. He would be directly in charge of so
many more employees, and his company would
finally be able to withstand the demand that he
had always dreamt it would draw. His new house
was much bigger than the prime downtown real
estate he stood in now, and the cost of living was
comparable. Maybe he’d even get a dog to fill up
that spacious backyard.
He shook his head absentmindedly. No, the
world wouldn’t end. Maybe it would even improve, for a little. But his world would end. He’d
given his whole adult life to this place, to this city.
The apartment that he had just emptied represented much, much more than the beginnings
of a company’s success, or the bachelor pad he
had lived in during his prime. This place was his
everything for the last thirteen years.
It would work. It had to work.
He ignored the bags by the door as he got up
and walked slowly up the stairs. A part of him
wanted to run up as fast as he could, like a giddy child on Christmas morning, but his doubt
stopped him. If this didn’t work, he wanted to
be able to believe in it for as long as possible. If
hopes were to be crushed, then he would prolong
the wait as long as possible.
That’s why he had waited so long to try this.
Packing his apartment, sending all of his possessions across the country, relocating his employees
– none of that would matter if this did work. If it
didn’t, though, he was determined to be prepared.
He supposed that doubt made him a coward, but
even that fact didn’t speed his steps on the stairs.
Each pace was slow and controlled.
The door to his bedroom swung open with the
same creaking that it always did, but it didn’t feel
familiar to him. Like this, the room didn’t feel
like his home. The hardwood floors were swept
clean – something that was never true when the
apartment was inhabited. The bed was gone, the
desk was gone. The windows, looking out on
the beautiful city skyline, didn’t have the potted
plants in them that they normally did. There was
no warmth here now.
He studiously ignored this fact as he walked
across the room and opened his closet door. All
of his clothes were gone, of course, and anyone
else who had looked in would have quickly closed
the door; it was completely empty. He didn’t close