"Alex!"
"I'm coming mom!" he hollered. He stepped through the open door of a medium sized, two-story building that he called home. Or at least, had called home. After almost twenty-five years he was finally moving out, planning to settle in a small and affordable bungalow located beside the beach. There he planned to fish and write as much as possible, now that he was no longer hassled by nagging parents and nosy neighbours.
Alex made his way downstairs and smiled as he caught his mother holding two things in her hands. One was a small trout he had caught when he was very small, mounted on a hardwood case with the engraving Alex's First Catch. The trout, although important and meaningful to him, paled in comparison to an old photograph taken by his late grandfather. The picture was in black and white, thanks to his love for all vintage and retro things. The picture was one of him as a child holding the diminutive trout on his fishing line, and a tall man with broad shoulders and a protruding belly with wide grin on his face. In his youth, Artyom Carlyle was a spitting image of his son, chestnut coloured hair and deceiving grey eyes that had a mischievous but well-intentioned twinkle.
"I thought you'd like to take these things with you to Sunset Valley." His mother smiled, a small but genuine smile that portrayed the sadness and happiness she felt. Her only child, her baby boy was moving out, far from the small city he grew up in. Alex knew that finding the picture and trophy must have stirred up memories in herself as well, memories of his father who had gone missing on his last trip to Al Simhara. Many people, including him, had accepted that Artyom was gone. His mother however was a stubborn woman who loved her husband too much to accept something as impersonal as 'he lived the last of his days doing something he loved Kendra.' Although she was several years younger than her husband, Alex began to notice the wrinkles on his mother's face and the grey lines that grew along with his mother's natural black hair.
He took the items from his mother and stared at them before wrapping himself around her. "Thanks a lot mum. I'm going to miss you."
"Me too Alex," his mother said, her voice struggling not to burst out crying.
"You sure you're okay with me doing this?"
His mother nodded, wiping away a tear and patting his shoulders. "Alex honey please, we've already had this discussion six-"
"Seven."
"-Seven times." Alex nodded before giving his mom one last hug and a kiss on the cheek. He made his way out of the house and to his car, closing the trunk and taking one last look before getting inside. The engine roared and the trout rattled with the picture frame as the car took off down the road. So long old life.