Closed door policy

 He stood for a long time at the doorway, waiting.
 Should he go in?
 He shifted his weight, raised his hand deliberately to knock. His hand froze.
 Coward!
 He thought he heard someone inside, and instinctively put his hand back down and took a step back.
 He smiled, waiting for the door to open. He didn't want the "deer in the headlights" look if it did.
 He'd be ready, smiling and agreeable.
 But the door didn't open and his smile soon faded.
 There is was again. He was sure she was inside, listening on the other side of the door. He was glad there wasn't a peep hole. No evidence he was being watched, just a nagging suspicion he was being listened for.
 He cleared his throat, loudly, and tried to make noises to see if the insider would open the door on hearing.
 Nothing.
 He narrowed his eyes, clenched his jaw, and knocked a few short raps before he could talk himself out of it.
 The door remained closed.

  She was hiding, waiting it out, he decided. She didn't want to give him the pleasure of finding her.
 Two could play this game. He leaned against the porch railing. Should he whistle? He wasn't going to fall for this one. In fact, he'd wait a few minutes, then knock again.
 He waited, but only a few seconds. Time ticked by painfully, no matter how nonchalant he wanted to be.
 His hand banged on the door impatiently. How he wanted to see her!
  "I know you're in there," his voice rose. Why did shout that? He was going to play it so cool. Now he was losing his cool, and quickly.
 "Open up, I know you're home!"
 Nothing.
 Only the sound of the telephone ringing inside. Hey, she'd answer it, and give away her position.
 Three rings. Four. Five.
Oh, no, the answering machine. Her voice greeting.
 A male voice coming on. He couldn't distinguish the words.
 Hmm.
 He felt foolish. What if the voice belonged to her new boyfriend? What if he was on his way here and she wanted nothing more than to run out the back door and into his waiting arms?
 He turned to leave.
 No, he would not leave. He had every right to be here.
 She was his wife. This was his house. He had every right to be here.

Saddest sound

 The sound of the zipper closing the suitcase is the saddest sound when you're the one closing it because you have to leave your family against your will.
 My suitcase zipper made that sound. Now I'm in another house, living out of that lonely zipper sounding suitcase. In this other house, not my own, I'm held captive by thoughts of regret. I sleep on a couch in my clothes and get up to leave as soon as possible. Sometimes I even sleep in my shoes. The change in my pockets rattles as I toss and turn. I collect it every morning off the couch and return it to my pockets.
 I am alone in the dark in the house not my own. I squeeze my eyes shut but I can't shut out the sound of the zipper closing me out of my familiar space. It is a prolonged lonely sound.
 I never wanted to close that suitcase and hear that pitiful zipper moan. If I could have done anything to avoid this living nightmare, I would have. But I didn't.
 I created my own nightmare and now I'm forced to live it wide awake. I eventually fall asleep. I dream I am home in my bed with my wife. Sometimes I am at my home, watching my kids, waiting for my wife to come home. I fall asleep on my own couch and when I wake, my wife is home, but I must go. It seems so backward. Seems so out of place. I walk away into the night.
 I look at my house from the outside. I imagine myself inside, warm and laughing and cuddling with my family.
 I look at my life from the outside and see the lights going out on the inside.
As I walk away from my home in the night, the sound of the zipper closing me out haunts me.