Artwork by Olaf Hajek
Prompt: The people who will live in your house after you move out.
The uneven paint seams unnerved them. They assumed I must have been a sloppy person. They "refurbished" all the decay I called character. No appreciation for the decrepit and useless fruit-drying vents in the floor. They got rid of the green claw-foot tub. They ripped out the blackberry brambles and put in gravel. They called the gold ceilings gaudy. They swapped the whistling beveled panes for air tight glass that you can see miles away through. They amputated every vine fingering this home, the bastards. In fact, they let every vagabond who rolled up the cul de sac traipse through that old place and they sold off my collections, my monuments, my mementos, for $2-5. They gutted and de-souled that home until it was just a house - somebody else's house. But their daughter put an orchid in her window, and that's something.