He'd been away long enough that he was afraid he might have forgotten this place, but no. The same sun beat down on the same concrete, the same bus brakes squealing past the same dilapidated liquor store through the same urban grime.
The place was the same, but the people had changed – or maybe it was just him. They all looked at him differently now. Dad kept a strange apprehensive distance, while Mom anxiously redoubled her affectionate gestures. His baby brother was the worst, staring at Eric through slitted eyes, accusatory and disgusted and maybe a little jealous too.
Of course, Eric held himself differently now too. He was harder, tougher. His tattoos had garnered attention, but also respect. Adversity had hardened him; he knew things they never would, but nobody wanted to acknowledge it. He ran with a different crowd now, and eventually he would turn into them, and all traces of chubby little Rerun would disappear forever. None of them realized the process had already begun.
Medical school, Eric thought. He may as well have come back from the moon.