a clean slate

that room—you know the one—always meant for something useful, but now just worn-out boxes and neglect. never sure whether the light bulbs will fire, or just a flash and pop and a startled kitten.

that place is this place. opening the boxes and seeing what goes to the shredder and what gets put on a shelf. which mementos warrant display, and which represent a person who’s long passed.

please be patient, and mind the dust.