Abandoned House

Pale circles mark the pantry shelf where the jars stood. The rest is dust and broken crockery.

The house has lost most of its front wall. A kitchen remains at the back, shaded by a roof that sags over the sink. You step across the broken tiles. On the wall, a faded rectangle marks where someone took a cupboard down.

A narrow pantry door catches against the floor. You ease it open far enough to squeeze an arm through, then clear the rubble behind it. The lower shelves have collapsed. Above them, a few glass jars stand in a row.

You lift one into the light. Honey fills it almost to the shoulder, golden above a pale layer of crystals. A hand has drawn a little flower on the lid. The other jars carry the same mark beneath their coating of dust.

You wipe the glass with your sleeve and check the jars for cracks. Their lids hold firm. Wrapped separately in cloth, they fit along the bottom of your pack. You step back through the kitchen, keeping the bag clear of the broken doorframe.

You pause in the doorway. Wind stirs the kitchen curtain against the sink.