Memory

The lady died. What was left of her was a house filled with memories. It's my job to wipe out a person's life. At least that's how I call it.
If no one does the job they call the agency and the agency calls me.
The house needs to be emptied and cleaned before it can be sold. Sometimes the family makes the call at times the city does.
They told me no one knows the woman who has been cremated last Friday. No one visited her or will miss her. With each item I removed, every inch I cleaned she became closer to me. I will keep this photo in my scrapbook and with that, she will not be forgotten and remembered by me.

source

I see an old photo of a time that passed. A photo about an unfamiliar world.

It feels to me this photo was important to someone.

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