this morning #2127.

this morning, beneath the broken beams & smashed glass, thousands of memories lay buried. abandoned but not forgotten. decades of seasonal leisure currently obscured under at least three feet of debris. clinking ice in cocktail glasses. the sounds of children’s feet bounding down the halls. at night, ghosts seep out & try to liven up the place but in the daylight, it’s just plain creepy. a degree of abandon that attracts thrill seekers like me. i cleared a path through the trash & climbed the stairs to the fifth floor to look for access to the roof. the higher i went, the staler the air. absence of movement. less sun shining in. in a room down at the end of the hall, a gaggle of rabid raccoons was waiting to greet me.