Tonight the door remained closed and Lea walked up the stairs sorting her mail. The stairs creaked with each step. Lea had joked about the stairs being her burglar alarm. Nobody arrived at her door unannounced.

Inside, she dropped the mail into a garbage can next to her desk. It was very seldom Lea received anything else in the mail. She switched on the light and looked around the room, it never ceased to make her happy. Everything here had been chosen, bought and carefully placed exclusively by her. She could not imagine a place that could feel more like home.

She had bought the condo, paying cash, from the inheritance after her parents death in a car wreck. She had still been in school, living at home. But after their death, she didn't want to live in their home anymore. It belonged to her, the lawyers assured her. But she knew they were wrong. Every room held happy memories that only caused her pain. With a few exceptions, she sold everything, even her own bedroom furniture. What she took, fit in her car. She drove away and never looked back.