105

I stopped for one last breather a couple of blocks away from my house. I watched it looming in the distance, sparkling underneath the harshness of the sun. Sweat dripped down my back as I sighed. I watched the off-colored white glisten against the deep red shutters of the house. During the entirety of my childhood, I remembered that house in three distinct ways. Three different sets of colors that all popped more than the houses around it. Maybe it was the fresh coats of paint put on it every year that kept the house lively. Maybe it was the fact that it was the biggest house on the block. Or, maybe, it was the fact that we had the only house with a wrap-around porch as well as a wrought iron front gate that was barely utilized.

Either way, it stood out.

I picked up the pace. I went from standing still to walking. To speed walking. To jogging. I burst into a sprint, pumping air through my lungs and feeling them expand into my back. I felt the last pangs from my ribcage fall free, rele