Apartamente vanzare bucuresti

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Memories jumped free

The key caught the edge apartamente de vanzare bucuresti of the wood and clanked so she pushed herself up and pulled open the latch walking through the gate puling it closed behind her and walked up the gravelled drive. She remembered glimpses of the features of this house. Theexact shade of the brown door. The brass rectangular shapes on the letterbox. The empty tulip vase that always sat on the window sill in the dining room. The daring purple of the cotton curtains pulled across the window. Other things forgotten to her like the metal bench that sat in an alcove under a window.

Leaves spilled across it and like an old playmate, a pair of gardening gloves had been left stiffening in the elements on its arm. The key slid gratingly into the lock and turned stiffly. She pushed open the door peering into the fusty airlessness of the building. Dimmed by closed curtains and blinds, she could have imagined its occupants turned to stone like in some fairy tale. She stepped up through the door, wiped her shoes on the mat and froze as she caught sight of a figure. Unsmiling and static, pale and uncertain Evie didn’t recognise herself for an instant. She stared at the stranger in contours of the old apartamente de vanzare bucuresti mirror.

She broke the connection and stepped beyond to focus beyond the hall. White painted stairs trailed up and around at the end of the hall. Several doors led off the hall, each panelled door closed. Whose hand had last pulled those doors? Whose fingerprints were cloaked on the surfaces of the entrance? She hesitated remembering every door and the apartamente de vanzare bucuresti creaks of the floorboards when anyone crept up the stairs. She took a breath and turned right along the hallway to enter in through the doorway of the kitchen. The window boxes that had once held parsley and coriander were empty. A few wind-blown seeds had self-set in awkward corners.

But overwhelmingly, the room and indeed the house felt empty. There were no warming sounds of people, not even the tapping of the apartamente de vanzare bucuresti water pipes as they creaked; the water was probably off at the mains. Maybe the plumber was called occasionally to check the system. It was something she didn’t know.

Something she had never asked. Resting on top of apartamente de vanzare bucuresti the large pine kitchen table was a small pile of correspondence with her parents’ names listing across the papers. Her fingertips grazed the sheets and she leaned over them grimacing. There were photographs on shelves. Brighter moments of hands closed and beaming smiles. She ran over to the door, turning the key automatically and pushing the door so she could escape out onto the lawn.