After leaving the Miller residence, I took a cab to my old home.
After my parents died in a car accident, I sold all our properties to pay off debts, except for this old house, which holds all the memories of my parents and me.
Getting out of the car, I looked at the familiar place with mixed feelings. Taking out the key hidden in the flowerpot, I stood there in silence for a long time before opening the door.
The house was quiet, filled with my photos and my parents' belongings. It seemed like nothing had changed, yet everything was different.
Sitting on the couch, I quietly stared at the photos on the wall. It all felt like a dream.
Suddenly, I heard a faint sound behind me. My body stiffened, and my nerves tensed up. Was someone in my house?
Afraid to turn around, I slowly reached for my phone to call the cops.
But as always, in moments of extreme panic, my hands fumbled, and even unlocking my phone screen became a struggle.
