We
were already gone when we moved out. There was no longer anything in
that house that would qualify as a home anymore. That's why it was so
hard. It had once been a home. My home. Memories are why the present
can be so terrible. Knowing that at one point nothing there could
frighten me. Nothing there was threatening until the letter or
realization arrived. The letter that changed my outlook. My life of
comfort ended in a single torn envelop. Chaos followed. And just like
that, despite the new roof over my head, I feel homeless.
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