The house had been abandoned for so long the walls forgot what warmth felt like. Inside, the mattress sagged with the ghosts of a hundred bodies, cigarette burns dotting the fabric like constellations.
Claire sat on the floor, knees pulled to her chest, listening to the rain leak through the ceiling. She found a crumpled note tucked under an old beer can:
"I was here. You were too. Maybe we still are."
She lit a match and watched it burn down to her fingers before snuffing it out.
Comments