Five days ago. Empty rooms, echoing footsteps, ee’re selling this apartment. It smells of old books and cherry pies.

The realtor, a brisk woman in an expensive coat:
"Great view here" she tells the buyers. "You can remodel, tear down this wall..."
I look at the wall. Under the wallpaper—my scribbles. I drew my dream house there.

"Don't tear it down" I whisper
"What did you say?" the realtor asks
"Nothing"

I went out on the balcony. My old bike is still there in the corner, rusty, missing a wheel.

"Miss, are you taking your things?" the buyer shouts
"I am" I reply. "But the most important thing, I can't carry away"
I closed the door, turned the key, click.
Like a heart being locked.
A home isn't bricks.
It’s the shadows on the walls that no longer belong to anyone❤️‍🩹