The door opens and I’m in the hall.
My bags heavy in my hand.
It is yellow tulips and coffee. Spring and sunshine.
A tinge of tobacco tickles a forgotten memory and I am a child again;
Sitting on a knee inhaling the smell of leather and tobacco in a pouch.
It is love and comfort.
I can hear children playing. The soft thud of metal hitting plastic.
But the house is silent and I am alone.