the furniture held laughter and memories. the walls had brown spots where pictures used to hang. the doorknobs were worn down and changing colors. the kitchen was old but smelled like home. the bedrooms had beds made long ago. blankets that held tears and laughter, now laying there. waiting. rocking chairs stuck in place, waiting to be rocked. you could tell where the plates were put on the table, there were spots. the chairs squeaked softly when you sat down. the doors creaked a little when you opened and closed them. the pillows old and flat, laid on by many. you couldn’t tell who came. you couldn’t tell at all. all you could see was that there was once people. memories. laughter. talking. food in the kitchen, the couches full of cousins. you could tell there was people, you just didn’t know who.

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