The House
A fiction non-fiction
She stands on the porch of the house they rent, the wood still warm beneath her feet, watching the evening light soften the street, and for a moment she is somewhere else entirely, walking through the house she knows by heart even though she has never lived there.
The house is white and open, with a wide porch that welcomes people without announcement, where shoes gather near the door and voices move freely in and out as the day unfolds, where windows open onto a garden shaped by seasons rather than design, worn gently by children who run through it without being called back too soon.
