Half-collapsed houses everywhere, broken windows and sagging roofs letting in twenty years of leaves and rain. Never anything good in the cupboards, not anymore: picked clean ages ago, or spoiled. Don't hardly go in anymore, not safe. Except sometimes, looking for clothes.
The kids' rooms are the worst, even when the kids are long gone, not even bones left. Toys all over the floor, drawers pulled out, bed crooked and linens soaked and rotted to a sickly brown, mushrooms growing in the corner. Just seems wrong, more wrong. I want to clean them up, but of course I never do.