My Sister Smirked Until I Said One Unit Number

opened, my hallway looked wrong.

Not damaged. Not trashed. Just violated.

The welcome mat I’d bought in a stupid little boutique in Portland was crooked. My front door stood ajar by an inch. Tape residue marked the walls where movers had brushed past. Somebody had nicked the paint near the handle.

Inside, the place had that hollow sound empty homes get.continue reading …