After a week of relentless travel, Fein finally stood before the familiar wooden door. The sound of his mother's slicing reached his ears, a comforting melody that filled him with anticipation and longing. With a mixture of excitement and nervousness, he turned the doorknob and pushed open the door, revealing the sight of his mother standing in the kitchen, her back facing him.
Melissa, engrossed in her task, suddenly felt a gust of wind brush against her skin. She turned around, the knife in her hand slipping from her grasp, clattering onto the floor. Her eyes widened in disbelief, and tears welled up in her eyes as she beheld her son, standing there before her.