The room had been warm once, alight with oak segments glowing with embers hugging them to bring symbol to the scene. But it had been truly alive because of those who once filled the space with their own warmth, their own love. Never overloaded with material, never stripped of its comforts, it was theirs to call home, or at least it used to be.
Passing his hands over dusty mantle and abandoned shelves, he stopped to ask his companion “How long has it been, since, ya know, they…died”
“That’s not for me to know,” it answered, gazing out into the clouded dusk, “They were important to you, not me.”
Entry #1 for this week’s Five Sentence Fiction from Lilie McFerrin. The prompt was “Desolate”, which usually implies a large scale, doesn’t it? But to some, a room is a universe.
I hope you all enjoy.