The house was unusually quiet that afternoon, sunlight streaming softly through the sheer curtains in the living room while I wandered about the house aimlessly, my hands trailing along surfaces in my home. My parents were away again and I was faced with the loneliness I was now used to enduring.
I was getting restless. I hated being alone with my thoughts because they always drifted to dark places I would rather avoid. After deciding to keep myself busy, I headed to the storage closet tucked away beneath the staircase. It was a space that was rarely visited, filled with old boxes and forgotten memories.
Dust particles moved around the air as I pushed the creaky door open. The rusty scent of old cardboard and old paper hit my nostrils. She coughed and tried to clear the dust with my hand
