Bestowing in a short stride inside of this barren home belonging to a close friend recently made me feel, hollow.

Discovering the area rather shortly, the initial aspect inside the house I noticed was how the eyesore flooring remains incomplete with old stains amongst lingering dirt. Appears as though the aged carpet was discarded after subsisting there for ages of how unsanitary the ground looks.

Interested in what the previous owners were committing to this place, did they discontinue intentionally? A probability in today’s society nowadays. Although the idea seems conspicuous by speculation.

I also believe the last residents of this lodging seem well manage for how certain sectors looked unscathed with no burned stains from a shortage of maintenance. Messy and jagged painted walls clear from holes or dents. Absent of debris before leaving.

Updating the home. Apparent from the opening of nonexistent application of proper flooring to conceal the stained tiles and cheap white curtains covering up wide windows. What made them stop redecorating this delightful home in a lovely town? It’s so peaceful. Getting at a home like this for cheap ain’t easy. Practically a steal! Compared to reaching out for a diamond fish amongst thousands of stonefish screaming expensive.

What was their explanation? Intentions? Are they okay? Curious about what their plans of design were so I can achieve their dream home from how much they managed about the lack of abandonment residing alone. Such a nice home. I don’t mind the drive. Far from family. Who probably are worried occasionally now that I’m a grown adult, but I do keep in touch to let them know I’m safe.

I quietly took a seat in a lone wooden chair covered with dust in the dining room with light beaming over heavy-looking, sturdy boards enclosing the window. Then an old friend texted me who I considered to be.

Void for a gaze. Flipping over my device to see two adults and a child photo card behind the transparent phone case, then turning my phone back around to read the message sent about an hour ago.

From Crush ❤️:

“Haven’t you remember us yet? I miss you.”

I replied with a frown, “No, I’m sorry.”

My heart twists tightly.

Was I that important to them?

My frown tugs harder at the mere thought of hurting someone who meant something to me once. Mouth being tug to go down like when dentists put machines to prevent you from your mouth to move. Helping you smile brighter.

It only made my mouth darker.

I hesitate to close my eyes. They started to sting soon the longer they stayed closed. Recollection of fatal, fatigue body covered in fresh crimson, smiling, in a crash before blacking out.

My chest aches.

Weakly uttered out with no one around to hear my pain and see the newly operated tears that I didn’t bother halting in an echoed home that isn’t mine.

Though something felt familiar as if a presence is here with me.

More tears started to flow, I let them free.

“I miss you, mom.”

There’s a tiny door behind the table where the lamp stands. I don’t know where it leads, but it’s clearly a cupboard under the stairs of some sort. However, there’s no handle anymore. It looks like it’s been ripped off. Who knows, maybe it was done by a monster. Or, more accurately, by the residents of this house, the old couple who’ve lived here for forty-five years. Even if it could be opened, I doubt it would lead anywhere interesting, but it’s easy to make up stories about doors that people have surely never opened.

That tree? That tiny, scrawny little pine is the towns Christmas tree? Out all the majestic ones?

Oh.

Oh.

All lit up.

That’s different.

And lovely.

In the corner is exercise bike, dusty and neglected. There are two long lamps, on each side of the sofa like Greek columns. Black pleather couches and a table with a bottle of salt and pepper and a small lidded bowl full of sugar. A magnifying glass pokes up out of a container full of pens. Plastic water bottles are everywhere, half filled with water, still. From of a tomato-shaped vase pours forks and spoons, the curves shining. A torn and empty package of chocolate is on the table, next to two cough drops and a woven placemat.

The moment I stepped into the craft room, I could tell it was a place where magical things happened. My eyes did not know where to land first, I can honestly say I have never seen so much in one room. The first wall to my right was filled with miniature shelves, housing inks, beautiful glass pens and sticks of wax. A line of wax seal stamps sat next to the pot of sticks. Next to these, a variety of hanging tins housed collections of pencils, pens, biros and gel pens. Above these was another shelf. It was a picture shelf, which had a multiple use. The rear was filled with large sketchbooks, mats and boards, in front, photos of the whole family were arranged, easy to see from the desk. I scanned my eyes along the wall further, to a recess. Clearly once a closet, the door had long been removed, and the inside filled with drawers and shelves. It was packed with files, greetings cards and lots of spare cards and envelopes for card making. I continued scanning around, anti-clockwise. A tall narrow tower of rainbow drawers were next, a colourful feast for the eyes. Every drawer labelled of its contents, the owner clearly an artist too, from the labels. On top of the drawers sat pots full of every type of paintbrush you could imagine, well used too. I continued my journey, to a huge cube storage unit. Consisting of 25 cubes, around a third were filled with an assortment of pink, black and orange canvas cubes, their contents concealed. Others were filled with books, magazine files, papers, boxes and drawers. Every section of the unit was filled to the brim. I continued scanning the room, next was the window wall. The Venetian blinds were almost fully closed to avoid the heat of the sun on all the supplies, but the room still felt light. A large white desk filled the whole length of that wall, it’s surface covered with desk mats, letter writing supplies and mugs from holidays filled with writing pens of every type. Fluffy, ornate, expensive, calligraphy, you name it. To one end was a little shelf. On here, a random selection of different size jars were arranged, filled with every type of ribbon you could imagine. Piles of boxes were on the desk too, of which the contents were concealed. The desk continued around to the next wall, more mats, and a very smart looking sewing machine. More machines were lined up, for various card making techniques. On that wall, hung a huge pinboard, with everything from scissors, to wooden shapes hanging from it. That was not all though, as below the desks were also filled with a rainbow of plastic drawers, all carefully labelled with its contents, housing papers, embellishments and more. I wish I could say that was all, but the floor was filled with an assortment of storage boxes, filled with paper pads and books, pens and more. There was a tiered cart full of cases and pens and tools, and another cart full of drawers all neatly labelled. Everything seemed to have a place, despite the sheer quantity in there. And it’s owner, I would imagine, knows where to find everything. The room was painted in a warm cream colour, with a feature wall of teal, but it felt such a homely, warm and welcoming room. Anyone using this room, clearly gets much enjoyment from it, and it’s a pleasure to be in.

By far the warmest room in the house around the holidays, the fireplace room is extremely cozy. The first thing I saw was the large black wood stove set in the center of the room, a cheery blaze crackling from within.

 Warm air radiated from it and I stretched my hands towards it comfortably. The room itself was bright and cheerful, an orange glow about it in the late evening light. I could stay here a long time. There was  also a bookshelf with many different books in it, from adventures to cookbooks to histories.

 How I longed to sit before the fire with a good book for the rest of the evening. Comfy chairs stood in the corner ready for use, and looked as though they were used quite often. 

  I decided that this has to be my favorite room in the house.

Green tile countertops, not something most people would pick. White cabinets that are no longer white, and odd wallpaper covering the walls.

The top of the microwave is missing, revealing its inner workings. The pantry is barely big enough to hold food, let alone the pots and pans shoved in there as well.

The counters are relatively clean; they have a bread box, toaster, blender, kettle, coffee maker, and the assorted knives and utensils one usually finds on kitchen counters.

A pitcher of water sits on the counter. The water from the fridge comes out at barely a trickle, not nearly fast enough to get a decent glass. Thankfully, the ice machine works, though it seems they are running low on ice.

There are a lot of cabinets, which means a lot of storage space, and there is a bench by the window looking out at the pool, so all in all, even though it could use some face level touch ups, the kitchen is a decent place to be.

I rang the doorbell and was astounded by the sound that flooded my ears, an antiquated yet fitting chime for this suburban home that I had been invited to this lovely Sunday afternoon. I stared at the fresh-cut green grass and watched two young boys ride bicycles down the sidewalk as I waited to be greeted at the front door. I heard a mechanical click and the door unlocked. At a second glance, I noticed it was one of those new high-tech locks that used numbers instead of a traditional key, and it was paired with a video camera doorbell. The perfect mix of old-fashioned and modern-day. I walked through the door and was enveloped by a big hug. "We missed you. Glad you could make it over here!" I was ushered into the kitchen and quickly took a seat at the edge of an island with a high-top counter. I kindly declined any flavored drinks and took a simple glass of cold water instead, and made small talk while my Sunday dinner plate was being prepared. "Would you like to eat in here or the sunroom?" I reflected on this question for just a moment as I watched my glass of water sweat down on the coaster. "It's a nice day outside. Why don't we head to the sunroom." I said and started towards the back door. My eyes widened as I entered the sunlit room. It was remarkable; the walls were painted a light blue, turquoise-aquamarine pigment. The floors were white marble, and it felt like I was gliding as I walked around the room. The ceiling was monumental and strikingly high above my head. The outdoor view was ordinary for a suburban home, but the room made the backyard look exceptionally grandeur. “I could sit out here all day.” I thought to myself. “You like it?” my host said as she came in carrying two plates filled with food. My eyes narrowed in on the steamy, perfectly plated dishes and vast portions of meat piled atop. “I LOVE IT!” I exclaimed and quickly sat in a corner chair with a full view of the room and backyard. The outdoor patio furniture was just as noteworthy as the room. Comfortable and welcoming, as I sat in the chair, it confirmed for me that I could sit out in this room all day. As I stared at the food in front of me, on the rustic steel tabletop, then up and outside as three small birds fluttered by, an innate feeling of home immersed me.

In the far reaches of the house, sits a small room. Closed off behind a white door with a placard hanging from the dark round handle. A green bookshelf, filled with books and decor, hides behind the door as it opens. A small closet in the back corner is blocked by crates and boxes piled at the end of a small bed which sits across from a large wooden desk.

It looks like the person just moved in but has had enough time to do a little setup. A white board and a cork board hang on the wall next to the desk. Both are covered in markings and papers as though there's been work done in this small makeshift office partially converted into a spare bedroom. Work that's probably been going on for months.

I loved that glow of his In the eye he wears, the sun far away Which illuminates us all around us. the branches turned green in the splendor of the mountain tops, As I watched them intently.

So I wish there was a bar now For a moment, let's watch quietly Valleys and every hill in its wake Which leads us, as he whispered to me warm say gentle kisses.

He approaches me quietly with his steps There I can smell his desk It enchants me, that sweet kiss On my face as in the splendor of the mountains tom.

Infinitely love guided us In his day, while the birds rejoice They sing from a distance, that gentleman I felt the habit in my heart As in the splendor of the mountains.