Hero's Journey
Opening the door cautiously, Rex peered through the slit in the door, watching to see if there was any movement on the other side. Out of no where, an enormous, salt and pepper coloured St. Bernard came gallopping down the corridor, spit flying off his tongue. He stopped at the door, sniffed it carefully, and attempted to push it completely open with his nuzzle until Rex closed it. As soon as the dog appeared to have left the vicinity, the middle aged man opened the door and set the brown paper bags filled with groceries onto the table, pausing to rest a bit. His dog had acquired the terrible habit of pouncing on anyone who even smelt like food, and although he was getting old, his weight could easily keep most people down.
Picking up the grocery bags again, Rex headed toward the kitchen wearily, and began putting them away. The kitchen was small, but cozy; oil paintings of different vegetables hung from the wall, and a thriving violet plant hung from the ceiling. By the sink, neatly put into separate piles, were the blue and white dishes from this morning's breakfast. Pictures of Rex's sister, older brother and dog were attatched to the refridgerator by fruit shaped magnets, surrounded by countless of to-do lists. The room itself was a very pale blue colour with pastel blue tiles on the counters and a blue and white checkered table cloth lay folded on a chair. His step-daughter, a home designer, had arranged this all for him, the house, the furniture, everything.
Although he had been perfectly happy the way it had been, he was grateful to have spent the amount of time he had with his daughter. Ever since his wife had passed away, his step-daughter and -son never visited and he had become quite lonely, although he'd never admit it. His gaze passed over the framed picture of his wife, her eyes shining with a joyfulness he never thought a camera could capture. Shaking his head, Rex turned away and started walking toward the rest of the groceries that had to be put away, but stopped, hearing the obnoxious noise of the cell phone his step-daughter had bought him for Christmas. “Hello, who is this?” he asked, holding the palm size phone to his ear, “Professor Knowles?” a young man's voice sounded through the phone, “This is he.” “This is Garrett Moss. Remember me? I took your mythology class in high school.” Rex paused before answering, trying to remember exactly who this fellow was, “Yes, yes. You were the short red haired kid, right?” he asked absentmindedly “Yep, that was me.” the boy laughed, “My psychology college teacher suggested bringing all the teachers who made a difference in our lives and I thought of you.” “I'm flattered Garrett. What time and where?” “Here at the University at 7 or so tonight. What do you say?” “It's about time I get out. I'll be there.”