it's a relief

to be home. to find that nothing has changed. the silence. the smell of fallen fruit. the softness of the ground recently watered. every time i come home, i come home to this house. i am still surprised to find that my room is still mine. the house is always empty, always dark. it has remained untroubled, untouched. the flowers still bloom, still give off that smell of satisfied languor. and at night the dogs still howl at the spirits of dead relatives that come home to sleep.