Long Lost Roommate

He had left four months ago, no calls, no texts, not even a letter. He’d left a half-eaten sandwich and still steaming cup of tea. His television was still lit, his clothes still in the washing machine, his phone still connected to a charger. Even his car was left behind, parked on the driveway, the hood cold to the touch. He was just gone. I thought I’d heard the back door close, but it could have been the wind. We boxed his belongings and re-rented his room, so certain that he would never come back. And yet there he was, traipsing back up the drive, a changed man. His eyes were vacant and wild. He was bearded and dirty. And yet, after numerous double-takes I was certain, that he was wearing a fine Armani suit.