He sits where he always does — just by the doorway, hand resting over his heart, watching the world move slowly around him. The walls hold stories, the floor remembers footsteps, and the hen by his side is as much a part of the family as anyone else. This isn’t just a house — it’s a heartbeat. A place where love is silent but strong, and where time lingers just a little longer for those who’ve lived the longest.
aloksah
Comments(0)
No comments yet