Once upon a time, my halls sang with laughter. My kitchen hummed, percolated and crackled, steamy and aromatic; hints of cinnamon, coffee, fresh bread and bacon.
Tea was served every afternoon in my parlor. Gossip dripped like venom from the rouged lips of fine ladies in flowery frocks, their white-gloved pinkies lifted properly as they sipped from china cups. My study still smells of sweet, fine cigars from nights when distinguished gentleman gathered after dinner to discuss the politics of the day.
These days people do their living outside my iron gates; sleeping with me, then leaving.
~kat – 23 March 2017
For Rochelle Wisoff-Fields Friday Fictioneers 100 word story challenge based on the photo above by J. Hardy Carroll.