She gripped the strap of her worn leather bag tighter as she stepped down onto the
hem without apology. Trees still lined the street like silent witnesses, unchanged, unlike her. Emily had returned, no
isdom. It looked smaller now, like most things from childhood did when revisited. The painted sig
from windows, imagined or real. Faces peeked and then disappeared
st at the end of the lane - same pale blue paint, same squeaky gate, same heaviness around its edg
ady to go
d the kno
erything the same. The same couch cover with the tiny red roses. The same photo frames, tilted just s
r her name. In the living room, her mother's handwriting peeked from a sticky note on the fridge. A
ot when she was handed the keys and told, "It's all yours now." But
longer her c
er respo
ed her. Emily wiped her face and
mi
t. Now a man - taller, broader, with the same stormy ey
u were back
so quickly," she replied,
own. Secrets ec
, and he entered, his presenc