What's Left

“So this is what’s left?”

You nod. “Pretty much.”

I say nothing in reply, merely looking at the worn down walls and ceiling, the protruding pieces of wood and glass, the distinct smell of something wasting away. The place is still up and standing but even the slightest disturbance can turn it into rubble it seems. I can still remember how beautiful this has once been. You do too, judging by that sentimental gleam in your eyes.

We grew up here; you and me.

“So this is what’s left of our childhood,” I say.

“Yeah.” You nod again. “Nearly nothing.”

image credits to Lady-Schnaps @ deviantart