The door creaks open…

… I look around. Cobwebs hang from every corner, a thick layer of dust disguising the original colour of the furniture. Clicking the light switch, a faint yellow glow flickers into life as though woken from many years of slumber.

My memories are embedded into this place, they scurry into the shadowy corners, hiding from the light, so rarely seen.

A yawn from the 27 year old Ermentrude by the fire place, a cough from 35 year old Ermentrude on the sofa. Everywhere I look, I see younger versions of me waking blearily as I step further into the room.

Opening cabinets, dusting shelves. There are no books here, just years and years of memory…

Do I stay and explore or do I leave it all in peace, to sleep some more. To sleep forever.