footsteps i hear them walking up the stairs (floorboards creaking) down the aisle he stopped opening a door- to the past as if entering a time-warp, he saw: furniture covered with dust, and ornaments that once shone with glory picture-frames long-forgotten faces like my biography, events of a lifetime flashed through his mind briefly remembering the small girl who had two front teeth missing and always pestered him to play "happy family" he smiled. quietly, he leaves. without touching anything in the room. only to return the very next day.