12
I’m in the living room, sitting on the armchair, staring at the faint light coming through the closed curtains. The gap separating each curtain shows me a little from the street outside. Barely. I’ve seen at least three figures walk past. Most likely Necs. No living person would be strolling down the road. Not tonight. Maybe yesterday.
Even though I’m no longer using the torch, my eyes have adjusted to the darkness. I can now make out the oak cabinets, the cherry-coloured sofa, the tall lamp at the far corner of the room.
But it still doesn’t feel like home.
Because it’s not home. Not anymore. Not without Sammy and Anna. How could it be? They were the heart of this house. Without them, it’s just an empty shell. Just a building for squatters to piss in.
I can’t even bring myself to
