Vacant

Image courtesy: Google

Anita stole one last glance at the beautiful cottage that had been her home for the past seven years. Her gaze lingered on the French windows that opened into a small patch of velvety grass adorned by brightly coloured bougainvillea bushes with mangled branches. She had spent so many days enjoying togetherness and long conversations with her husband over cups of tea and freshly baked cake in that very place. That was many months ago, before he played a game of hide and seek with her, vanishing into a secret hideout away from this world, never to return.

She would miss the ivory coloured walls that were a collage of glimpses of their life together. She remembered how the wooden floor boards squeaked with joy at their footsteps, the cool breeze that carried with it the scent of the coral jasmines and the cool stretch of white marble on the kitchen counter where he always sat to give her company while she cooked.

These had been symbols of joy until a few years ago, but strangely turned into painful reminders of the emptiness in her life. What had been their home for many years was just a house now, waiting for new inhabitants. She drove away to a new life in a new place, hoping to get away from haunting memories. Another family would move in soon and the house would no longer be vacant. She realized with a pang of sorrow that it would not be the same of her heart.





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