Working from the main floor up, the third story master bedroom was the last room of the 5000 square foot home to be cleaned.  Now it is truly empty.  She stands in the centre of the immense room with 18 foot peaked ceilings listening to the nothingness.  Thirty-four years of decorating, furnishing—all sold at auction.  Downsizing, they call it.  More like self-effacement, she thinks.

She turns and walks towards the stairwell, the oak hardwood creaking in spots she side-stepped when they slept here so as not to wake him.  The echoes of her footsteps remain along with the keys on the kitchen counter and the small note she left tucked behind the second floor laundry room baseboard:

I hope your home is filled with the sound of little running feet.

then descended every step on every floor and walked out the door trying to imagine it.