Harvey took the train out of the city on Saturday morning. Not early and not late. The kind of time that didn't rush him and didn't make him feel slow either. The carriage was half full. People sat with headphones in or stared out the window or leaned against the glass with their eyes closed.
He stood near the door with one hand on the pole and watched the buildings fade into houses and small shops.
His phone buzzed once.
Emily: At work today?
He typed back.
Visiting my parents.
A few seconds later.
Emily: Good. Say hi for me.
He smiled slightly and put the phone away.
The station near his parents' place hadn't changed. Same cracked pavement. Same small café near the exit. Same faded sign that looked like it had been there forever.
Elaine was waiting in the parking lot. She saw him first and lifted her hand with a smile like he hadn't been home in weeks.
"There he is," she said when he opened the car door. "You look thin."
"I'm not."
"You are," she said, already pulling him into a hug. "You just don't notice."
His father stood a few steps back with his hands in his jacket pockets.
"Hey," his dad said.
"Hey."
They hugged once and stepped back.
The drive home was calm. His mother talked about traffic and grocery prices. His father mentioned a neighbor who had installed solar panels. Nothing important. Nothing heavy.
The house looked the same. Same paint. Same small garden. Same crooked wind chime by the door.
Inside, the air smelled warm and familiar. Elaine immediately started asking questions.
"Did you eat?"
"Are you sleeping?"
"Are you drinking enough water?"
"Yes," Harvey said.
"Yes."
"Probably."
His dad laughed from the living room. "He's fine."
Lunch was already halfway ready. Pots on the stove. Plates on the counter.
A few minutes later the front door opened again.
"Yo."
Ryan walked in like he always did. Loud energy. Messy hair. Wide grin.
"Cousin," he said, clapping Harvey on the shoulder. "You look like a corporate ad."
Harvey smiled. "You look unemployed."
Ryan laughed. "Temporarily between visions."
Behind him came Lena, quieter, carrying a bag of snacks.
"Hi, Harvey," she said.
"Hey."
Uncle Mark followed last. He didn't rush. Didn't announce himself. Just walked in, nodded at everyone, and said, "Smells good."
Elaine waved a spoon at him. "Sit before you criticize something."
Mark smiled and sat.
The house filled quickly. Noise. Movement. People talking over each other. Ryan arguing with Lena about music. Elaine telling them to lower their voices. His father moving plates around the table without saying much.
Harvey sat back and watched it for a moment. It felt normal. Comfortable. Unforced.
They ate together. Food passed around. Plates filled and refilled. Ryan told a story about a job he quit after two weeks. Lena rolled her eyes. Mark asked him if he had a backup plan. Ryan shrugged.
Elaine asked Harvey about work.
"Busy," he said.
"Good busy or bad busy?"
"Just busy."
Mark looked at him for a second, then back at his plate.
Later, when the noise softened, Harvey stepped outside onto the small back porch with Mark. The air was cooler than the city. Quieter. No traffic. Just wind and distant voices.
Mark leaned against the railing. "You alright?"
"Yeah."
Mark nodded. "Good."
They stood there for a bit.
Then Mark said, "Don't let life get too neat."
Harvey looked at him. "What does that mean?"
Mark shrugged. "If everything starts fitting too cleanly, you're probably cutting something out."
He didn't explain. He didn't expand. He went back inside.
Harvey stayed on the porch for a moment longer.
His phone buzzed.
Emily: How's home?
Harvey typed.
Loud. Normal. Food everywhere.
Emily: Sounds right.
He smiled and put the phone away.
Inside, Ryan was arguing with his dad about football. Elaine was laughing too loud. Lena was scrolling on her phone.
It felt full. Real. Grounded.
For a moment nothing in his life felt narrow. Nothing felt reduced. Nothing felt managed.
Later, as Harvey sat alone in the guest room before leaving, the quiet returned. Not heavy. Just present.
His phone vibrated once more.
Not a message.
Not a call.
Just words.
[Decision point recorded]
No outcome followed. No explanation. The words stayed for a few seconds and disappeared.
Harvey exhaled and put the phone down.
When he left, his mother hugged him too long. His father clapped his shoulder once. Ryan told him to come out for drinks sometime. Lena waved. Mark nodded.
The train ride back felt shorter. Darker outside. Calmer inside.
Harvey leaned his head against the window and watched the lights pass.
Home faded into the distance. The city came back into view.
The system stayed silent.
For the first time in days, something settled instead of shifted.
Not certainty.
Not clarity.
Just connection.
He closed his eyes.
The train kept moving.