It’s been a long time at college, and I’m looking forward to getting home and just having a drink where I don’t have to worry about some idiot freshman trying to steal it to get their illicit buzz on. Pulling into the drive of the lone house at the end of the cul de sac, I notice that the only car here is one that I don’t recognize. I’ve never been much of a car guy, but it looks expensive, and I’m certain I’ve never seen it at any family get togethers or events.

Stretching as I get out of the car, I grab a couple of my bags and saunter up to the front door. It takes me a moment to fish out my keyring and another few moments to remember which key goes to this house. It’s easy enough to figure out – apparently the answer is ‘none of them’. Grumbling about the locks being changed while I was away for the term (probably because dad decided that he wanted to break the terms of the divorce decree again and steal back some stuff that he thought was his), I pound on the door. I blink in surprise as the door swings open and I see a person I haven’t seen in a long time. “Hey, Auntie,” I say hesitantly.

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