It was a hot day. The room was white, empty, full of echoes, voices of the walls speaking softly to the visitor.
It has been a while, they said.
It has been a while – I took a refuge in this house some years ago, when I was unwelcome by others… embraced me as I slept in its corner.
I prayed that day, years back. It was a first for the house.
I later returned, last year, when it was empty. It has been a while – it has been a while. I had no where else to go again. There was no bed this time. No furniture, no TV, no photos… just a memory, that once, I had been here.
It felt different.
I lay on the floor, placed my wallet and my mobile phone above it, like I have always been doing since I started carrying both. The floor was cold, yet, it did not bother me. It did not bother me that there was no furniture, nothing to live with. I just had the walls, a door, and a key.
I lay on the floor. The lights were off. It was 8 PM. Outside the window, I could see nothing but a black sky. I closed my eyes. I took a deep breath.
Welcome home, they said.
I felt a crack on the tile my fingers pressed against. I smiled. I felt the house, and it felt me too. You will be my home, I said silently. I turned to my side, and tried to read the shadows on the wall.
You slept here the last time, they said.
It has been a year now. It is hard to say goodbye. Crazy, probably – just a house… some concrete, steel, tiling.
But I would miss “it” – the “it” that people don’t feel until “it” isn’t there anymore.
of memories locked deep in,
silent in shadows.