There was a time when the sight of a building such as this, would give me a thrill.

What I’d see was a beautiful house with strong wooden doors, white sash windows and the interior illuminated with soft down-lights. I’d see the children running across cushioned carpeted floors, playing hide and seek, from one adorned room to the other.

In the living room, I’d be in front of a roaring fire, reading a book with mellow jazz in the background.
That was another time, another me.
Now, all I see is a building for another’s dream.

©Vivian Zems

Friday Fictioneers with Rochelle

Image by Sandra Cook