It stood at the edge of the woods, tucked between tall trees, untouched. Untouched in the literal sense—no damage, no signs of recent life. But untouched in the other way too.
Like a memory sealed in a box and shoved to the back of the mind.
The windows were dusty. The porch creaked under my weight. I didn’t bother knocking. I just shoved the door open and walked in.
It looked exactly the same.
I stood there in the doorway for a long time. Breathing in the stillness. Letting the dust and silence wrap around me like a second skin.
Nothing had changed.
And yet, everything had.
I walked deeper inside, slow. Each step heavier than the last. I turned into the living room and looked around like I was waiting to hear someone call my name.
But no one came.
My legs gave out before I could
