visit

When the front door opens there is an assault of shut-in smell. Miraculously
the bulb in the one lamp is burning, to create a nightly appearance of
habitation. The rug needs cleaning and the last keepsakes need to be claimed from the kitchen counters. No one wants the toaster. The clock is an hour behind, for now. The closets are empty but the bed is made. There is
a hamper near the washing machine and a full box of detergent. Hopefully the
old lawnmower still works. Sometimes she remembers about her house and asks who is living there now.