I am a House

This tale is a response to Marisa – a Friend of a Friend

I am a house.

I used to be the best house in the neighbourhood.

I had two bedrooms when the rest had one.

I had electricity when the rest did not.

I was surrounded by apple trees when the others only had a berry bush. Nowadays I am surrounded by rumpus rooms, home theatres, triple garages and outdoor entertainment areas.

I am a mouse in a cage full of lions.

Many people have lived beneath my tin roof.

Only one person ever talked to me.

She said, “little house, I have something to tell you and I cannot tell anyone except you.” So I listened. “My boyfriend is a bad man and I must leave.”

I was sad. My only friend was leaving me.

I had seen her paint paintings as a little girl. I had listened to her learn to play the piano. Her awards were hanging on my walls. She had talked to me many times and now she was talking to me for the last time.

“I will go to Manchuria and learn Mandarin” she said. “And I’ll find a little house with a tin roof and apple trees to raise my family.”

There was a noise on the driveway.

The boyfriend was back.

The girl was gone.

My front door opened as my back door shut.

My timbers creaked “good luck, girl.”

T.

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