The days crumbled to dust & the corners of his mind held little piles of them, blown where the drafts led them. The rooms he went to most had paths smudged through. Weeks, months, years streaked along the floor with footprints near the good times, & the bad times trampled more.
A lifetime of memories, shut in here, haunted by ghosts of Regret, lit by Love's warm glow, & scented by forgotten dreams. All gathered together, waiting for the day the door opens & blows them to beyond.
#microfictiony2