Disclaimer: I don't own The Godfather films or the novel.

It seemed so surreal being back.

What with his long absence, he had anticipated feeling a little homesick. But he hadn't anticipated feeling sick being home.

This was their house.

Their property.

It was beautiful, wasn't it?

So why couldn't he see the beauty in it now?

As Michael walked through the backyard, ice crunched beneath his shoes.

It was kind of funny, really. To think of how expensive, how lavish their house was, only for it to look no better than any other house on the block once it was covered with snow.

Michael sighed as he rounded the swing set and the kids' wagon on the ground.

He guessed it was true for everything in the end.

You could dress yourself up any way you liked, act however you wanted; but ultimately, everyone was the same.

The princes, the paupers.

The pawns, the kings.

All were just as significant as the next.

And right now he felt worthless.