Home Alone

As the sun sets, the colors paint the skies behind an abandoned house in the corn fields. Burnt oranges melt into blood-red streaks, while purples bruise the edges of the clouds.

The house stands crooked, tired — its roof sagging like old shoulders, its windows staring blankly into the horizon. Time has taken everything but its bones.

Tall grass sways around it, golden in the light, whispering stories of laughter once held within. A lone crow watches from the rusted chimney,