the house is freezing (3)

The house hasn’t been touched in years, but it feels… lived in. The furniture is still arranged as she remembers it. The floral-patterned couch in the living room is covered in a thin layer of dust, but it’s still there.

The coffee table is still scratched from where she once dragged a metal toy car across it. Even the paintings on the walls are the same—landscapes in cheap wooden frames, their colors faded. She pulls her coat tighter around herself as she moves deeper into the house.

The cold seems to intensify with every step, as if she’s walking into the heart of a glacier. Her footsteps echo in a way that makes the house feel larger than it is, as though it’s expanding around her.