The carpenter lay the final shingle atop the red roof and slapped his gloves against one another. 5 months of building from the foundation up, and all that’s left is a fresh coat of white paint. A long project, complete.

And so the house stood, tall and shiny.

Little feet pattered down the stairs, running out the front door with a fit of giggles. Larger feet sauntered after, with a cheerful “The monster’s coming to get you!” There’s a tire swing hanging from the front lawn oak, directly next to a dirt driveway. Toys are scattered across the porch.

And so the house stood, full and loved.

A box crammed with photographs piles into a car. A teenager walks out the door and down the wooden steps, their once little foot finding the weakest point and falling through with a pained grunt. Oh well, it’s not our problem anymore. The family car starts up and takes its last ride down the now concrete drive.

And so the house stood, empty and silent.

“It just needs a new paint job!” the realtor exclaims to her clients, walking up the wooden steps and taking extra care to avoid the old hole. The couple give her soft smiles, but glance sideways at each other - this isn’t the one.

And so the house stood, bare and lonely.

The ivy makes its way up the wooden railing while weeds grow up through the porch boards. The white paint splinters in various areas, and the red roof is singed by dozens of summer suns. Two teenagers sneak quietly up the driveway and push open the front door, seeking uninterrupted shelter inside.

And so the house stood, used, but only when convenient.

The shudders droop and the tire swing lays on the ground. The house is largely gray now, speckled with faded splinters of white. The front door is permanently propped open, and there hasn’t been electricity in years. Pre-teen boys like to dare each other to spend 10 minutes alone inside, which none have accomplished thanks to the crows that set up nest inside.

And so the house still stood, feeble and worn.

The house still stood until one day it was too tired to fight with gravity. The walls tilted left and decided to retire with the porch weeds and the ivy. The roof followed, deciding it was time for a new point of view. And so the house took its last breath, and with a sharp exhale of the wind, finally laid to rest.