Back Home

It had been years since she had set foot on these streets, and yet they looked exactly the same as the day she had left. The same curtains, in the same rooms, of the same houses, opened up at the sides. Pairs of beady eyes, some blue, some black and some green, followed her all the way down the street to her front door. She knew she was giving them something to gossip over afternoon tea, but she didn’t care. She had come to accept that your ghosts never leave; you just have to find a way to move forward despite them. Let them stare, she thought. Let them talk. I’m still the only one here who knows what really happened that day, and that’s how it shall remain.

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