Ellen unlocked the door to her apartment and stood still in the doorway, her hand resting on the handle, her fingers trembling slightly as she pushed the door open wider. She let out a long, slow breath and hesitated, her eyes scanning the space as if she was seeing it for the first time. Somehow it felt strange, as though she'd returned to a life she barely remembered. A place she never thought she'd see again.
She finally walked in, each foot feeling heavy as she strolled through her small living room. Her eyes lingered on every detail: the worn-out couch by the window, the stack of books on the coffee table that she'd left untouched, and the framed pictures on the wall, all part of a life that once felt whole. Now, it all seemed distant, faded, as if these belongings were mere props for someone else's story. Her fingers brushed over the edge of the table, and she closed her eyes, taking in a shaky breath.
