Paint

The paint was peeling off of her walls by now.

She'd been gone months. Maybe even a year.

It had gotten to the point where no one noticed she was gone. No one missed her; no one thought of her.

Her old room was to be remodeled into something else. It was in shambles. The posters that once hung up on the walls were losing their adhesive the same way the paint was.

The bed, drawers, and lights were dusty with neglect.

Once in a while, some one would go into the room, look around, and then leave. It felt weird to be in the room as it was. That's why they were remodeling it.

Everyone was so sure she wasn't coming back. They pretrended she was somewhere else; somewhere else shirking responsibilities and being as care-free as she liked.

Really, they all knew she was dead.
{*}{*}{*}

That's terrible. I wrote it using the prompt "The paint was peeling..."

Yeah :(

xoxo

-{mari}