A new place always meant adventure, at least to David. 

A new place meant new people, new experiences, and new everything you could think of. The only thing that wasn't new was the two people moving into the small town. David and his son, Art, Wessel. 

The house was a two story white house, with a small porch in the front and a never-ending backyard. The rooms were small with furniture, but felt homely and warm due to all the small memories of home that they brought with them, though it brought some painful memories of having to leave home, but David knew he had to. It was a great opportunity, and he had to take it for the prospect of increase of money, and the ability to get away from his hometown.

Though it was where he raised Art, it still had painful memories of the women who left him with the child. Though he loved his child, it was still painful to pass those memories everyday.  

But in this new town, he had none of that and could start over. He thought these very thoughts as he brought the final box out of the trunk of his car. They had driven all the way, following the moving van with very few stops, but they had all arrived in one piece. They had broken a lamp which had fallen out of the car after a rest stop.

David placed the box on the bottom step of the stairwell, looking around the hallway. All the furniture seemed to be in place, the only thing missing was his son. 

[color=teal]" Art! "[/color]