I switched off the final lights, walked out and locked the door. I had pulled the curtains across the front windows, so could no longer look in. Walked up the street to the top of the hill, and glanced back down the street. Only streetlights lit its path, and the river valley at the bottom lay shrouded in darkness. I somehow knew I would not be back.
I turned left and followed the footsteps of yesteryear, as far as the footpath to the estate and former school. Beginning a gradual descent, I passed the familiar houses along that street, eventually turning right along the farmer's fields. He was long gone now too. Another path to the past struck out right, below an extended copse of birch trees and brambles. So long ago that I was there with my mum, first steps to school. Another school, long since replaced by houses.
Eventually, I reached the edge of the town, marked by a thoroughfare. At that time of the morning, there was no traffic, and I could just walked into the next town. Houses here were packed together more closely, with the odd business in between. The baker's shop hove into view, right across another school. Many a time I had queued for ages to get loaves of bread on Saturday morning. Its windows were now dark, the clock showing the unearthly hour of 4.30 am. I proceeded along the narrow pavement, until the street curved further down a gentle slope, past another business that I would frequent when young - long since converted into a private dwelling house. I cut through the carpark at the bottom and emerged on the main road. Nothing moved. The odd car perhaps. The powerlines for the electric bus gleamed in the streetlights, and presently one hove into view. The time was now 4.50 am, and it quietly took me away.
This trip did not actually happen. Circumstances changed.
I did come back, but in another age, if just days later.