One Last Walk
The apartment on Alder Street was empty now. Ines walked through it one last time, in her boots, with the keys in her hand.
This room was where she woke up for six years. Now it was a room with a window and a mark on the wall.
This one was where she cooked. Her sister came every Sunday and they ate the same meal every time, because Ines cooked one thing well.
The last room was where her uncle slept for a month, and where nobody ever sat in the good chair.
Behind the door she found a sweater. She put it in her bag.
She gave the keys back. The new apartment was cold and empty. Nothing had happened in it yet.
