Monday, April 7, 2008

No One Home

I once walked into an old house, empty and dark.

The floor creaked when stepping lightly.
The air was musty and stale.

Going from room to room, the house was lifeless.
The only objects present were old furniture and decorations.
Long-since forgotten.

Searching for someone, calling out.
Looking for the dweller, opening every door.
Listening for sounds of life.

There was no one home.
No one lived there - no soul to be found anywhere.

The only one present was me.

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