Mariella Hunt

Drip. Drip. Tea trickles over the side of an overturned saucer, but no one is around to right it or wipe the wooden floor.

The front door of this old house has been left wide open, pictures on the wall knocked over to show signs of a struggle. A stray cat wandered in not long after the residence was vacated and sits curled up by the window, enjoying warmth from the winter air.

Outside, it’s started to snow in flurries. A layer of ice dusts the entrance to the house. Aside from the cat, nothing from outside has noticed the absence of people. That tea is cold by now, but continues to drip; it make a noise that mesmerizes the feline visitor.

As you can see, this place is empty. It’s unlikely that anyone will come back, since this house was built miles from town. Somehow, it still has the feel of having been inhabited very recently.

There’s no point staying, but we can speculate: there will be unattended phone calls for weeks, perhaps months. More animals will take up residence in the tidy bedrooms as nature reclaims this corner of the woods.

For now, the saucer drips its cold contents onto the floor.

Drip. Drip. Drip.