The gold rays of the setting sun poured through the dusty living-room window, illuminating the million cobwebs and formed crisscrossed shadows on the wooden floor. It had been years since the house was inhabited, but time stood still in the manor.
The last time I had seen it, it had been grand; the spotless walls used to reflect the sunlight flooding in through the huge windows. Over the years, it was gradually falling to ruins.
But the same autumn breeze blew at the now-fungus-covered curtains; it was the same fireplace, which hadn’t had the warm flames in its heart since the past fifteen years. My footprints stood out clearly on the dusty planks of the floor, as I made my way to the moth-eaten armchair.
The kitchen door stood ajar. Nothing had changed. The utensils were still in their shelves. The untrimmed ivy growth, dust and cobwebs seemed to be the only proof of how much time had gone by.
Here and there, I saw small pawprints on the floor, made undoubtedly by rodents and felines infesting the manor. I stared out of the window at the untidy lawn, where our dogs used to play. I was deep in thought. The house was still the same.
May, 2024
