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Missing Home Research Paper

Decent Essays
I live in a small house by myself. I have a small lounge, a small television, a small table… In my lounge room I have a treadmill. I love it. I run on it every morning. While I run, I look out the window. I admire the house across the road, it has a small veranda, the turtle ornament in the garden near the burgundy mailbox is slightly chipped, and the grass always seems to need mowing. I listen to my feet as they slam so consistently on the track, never missing a beat. It’s a marvellous invention, it really is. It catches my steps as I am running towards nowhere. I can run for hours on end, and never have to leave the space of my lounge room.
Once I’m finished I quickly shower, before readying myself for work. I love it. It’s a routine; I do it every morning. From here, I’ll watch my neighbour do yoga while I eat my breakfast – toast, just like every morning. She loves yoga, she does it every morning.
As soon as it’s my lunch break at work, I drive home and run on my treadmill for thirty minutes. While I run, I look out the window, admiring the house across the road. I take another shower, eat my lunch, and drive back to work. I know, it’s a waste of petrol. But I love it, it’s routine.
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I would usually run on the treadmill while I watch the lights turn off and on in different rooms of the house across the road. I love that routine; I do it every night. Tonight is different though, I’m running and no lights turn on. No car appears on the driveway. No pretty girl walks through the door. I worry. This isn’t my routine. I sit there for hours and wait for her arrival. Soon enough, the sky is lit grey and its time for my morning run. I run on my treadmill while I watch the house across the road, but no girl comes out and does yoga. Her driveway is empty and her house is
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