The floor creaked as I took a step forward. As the room shrank with every step, the musty smell devoured me. My fingers felt the dirt and dust that was left on the now yellow looking laced curtain. I wiped away the grime from the antique mirror attached to the dresser.
My eyes were tired, and as I touched my reflection, I noticed my hands were withered and frail. Wrinkles covered my now boney hands. A lonely tear trickled down my powdered cheek. This is my lonely home and all that is here is me.
The breeze from outside had a shrill sound to it as it echoed the loneliness I feel.