Yellow

The sheets were faded and dull; it was obvious that no one had lived in the fifth floor walk-up for a while.  There was a coat of dust covering the floor; a remnant of footprints walked through the door and ended.  A plastic covering laid over the sofa and it was silent.  A type of silence that lent itself to special occasions like serious catastrophes and death.  What happened here, he wasn’t sure, but it had to be something of that kind.

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