When I opened the door to my mom's house, the smell of distant and long forgotten memories hit me in the face. It made my stomach recoil.
I stepped foot inside, putting the keys in my pocket.
Well, to put it frankly, there was a lot of work to be done.
The pictures on the walls seemed smaller than I had remembered them, or maybe it was the memory of them.
The walls and the floors were dirty, my mom was always a smoker.
I walked a few more steps into the house, the creaks were so familiar. I walked into each and every individual room, scanning and analyzing things that needed to be done and cleaned. My room was gonna be the last, I didn't want to open that door again.
I had no friends and no family that would help me with this job, so at least I had something to do. It would take forever, but it was worth it, the house is worth a lot.
I started with the bathroom.
I took off my hoodie and placed it on the kitchen counter. I was wearing a grey tanktop.
The bathroom really just needed a deep scrubbing, but the counter was messy with countless hair and facial products.
My mom was obsessed with those things, trying to be younger and beautiful.
The smell of the bathroom wasn't pleasant, it reminded me of going to school every morning.
I threw away every single thing on that counter and started wiping the counters down.
I finished cleaning the mirror, taking down the shower curtains and throwing them away, too. I hated those things. I finished cleaning the bathroom in a matter of 15 minutes.