I set down my suitcase on the dusty road and stared at the little cottage.
The small structure was all very symmetrical. The first floor was a small storefront, though there were not any other buildings for miles around. Two tall windows flanked a grated door. White shades hung out over the windows and colorful papers, posters and adverts were taped to the glass. It was painted a bright, baby blue – with a straight reddish roof that stretched backwards to meet in the middle. On top of the cottage, there was a large black satellite antenna – it was new, the tv must get excellent reception.
There was a lamp sticking off the front of the building, all the way to the right and in between the first and second story. There was a narrow balcony that looked over the road protruding right above the entrance way. Two more windows stood on either side, just like their cousins below – their shutters dragged downwards. Graying concrete stretched along each side of the squat walls, and trimmed the windows.
The sky was overcast, and just a hint of the red and green mountainous landscape could be seen behind the cottage draped underneath a blanket of fog. On either side of the tiny manor stretched flat, sandy dirt.
I looked down at my watch and grabbed up my suitcase. I walked across the road towards the old home. It felt emptier now.
See the image that inspired this writing here.