Hollow out the rooms. Compress every detail into boxes locked in permanent ink: kitchen, bedroom, handle with care, fragile. It takes awhile. Even after settling the dust that licked our letters. The sediment of sentiment that adorned our dreams. The sigh sagging from your mouth. The key in the clumsy crook. How hard we tried to make a dwelling. Something of ourselves in the brief breath of what we knew to be our lives. The air remains still to be breathed. Remember the floorboards who took you in. How every step managed to impress them. Those who would not forget.