The Wistful Silence
You pack the box. The tape is cheap. It sticks to your thumb. You peel it off. The skin red. You do it again. The house is quiet. Too quiet. The walls are breathing. They are holding their breath. You know why. You are leaving. The orchids are in the corner. Green. Vines thick as ropes. They climb the wall. They reach for the ceiling. They do not ask permission. They just grow. They are yours....
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