They leap through broken windows, spider webbed fractures across the glass like shadows.

Rain thunders down against tin roof and holes, they tread ever so carefully on their soles.

They walk around untouched rooms, dust so heavy laden in the air like blooms.

A song drifts down the corridor, a gentle melody of surrender.

It lulls, a hand pulling gently on your sleeve, oh how sweet it grieves.

All that remains are their missing faces, on missing pages.