Daily Write: Homeward Bound

The cab pulled up to the curb in the humid grey light of the June dawn, the idling engine the only sound aside from the occasional melancholy hoot of a mourning dove. He fished out 30 bucks from his wallet, told the driver to keep the change, and climbed out of the back seat, peeling his moist back away from the vinyl upholstery. The day was heating up already, and he was glad to think of getting inside, taking off his suit jacket and shoes, rolling up his sleeves, and sitting in the air conditioned kitchen with a cup of coffee and the just-delivered morning paper. He trudged up the few steps of his front stoop, garment bag slung over his shoulder, briefcase in one hand, and keys in another. This last effort was almost more than he could muster, but somehow he managed to swing the screen door open with a free couple of fingers, and awkwardly jamming himself and his baggage between the screen door swung wide and the front door, he fit the key into the lock, and turned it counter-clockwise, hearing the "welcome home" thunk of the deadbolt being thrown aside. Grasping the polished brass handle, he turned it, and pushed the heavy wooden paneled door open, immediately refreshed by the cavernous cool air hitting his face, and sinking quickly into the weave of his damp clothing.