She wandered through the rooms, her footsteps echoing off the walls. Every piece of furniture, every decorative trinket, held a memory. The worn armchair where her grandfather used to read her stories, the faded rug that had been there since she was a child, the vase her mother had filled with fresh flowers on sunny afternoons.
As she made her way to the kitchen, she noticed the old wooden spoon her grandmother used to stir the soup, the tea towels with the faded floral patterns, and the worn linoleum that had been there for as long as she could remember. asstr-home
"The Home Within"