Home

The door opens and I’m in the hall.

My bags heavy in my hand.

It is yellow tulips and coffee. Spring and sunshine.

A tinge of tobacco tickles a forgotten memory and I am a child again;

Sitting on a knee inhaling the smell of leather and tobacco in a pouch.

It is love and comfort.

I can hear children playing. The soft thud of metal hitting plastic.

But the house is silent and I am alone.

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