I stepped into the room.
It smelt familiar.
The curtains were the same.
Bright sunlight beaming through them.
The floor still sparkled.
I opened the cupboard.
My things were shabbily stacked in a corner.
As if someone wanted me out of the way.
Closing the cupboard, I found my table missing.
Replaced by a more glamorous piece of furniture.
I decided it was wiser to move somewhere else.
But again, wasn’t it my place?
It truly is.
The window sill sports my coffee mug stains.
The walls still bear my pencil marks.
The same songs play in my mind.
I belong to this place.
And the place, indeed, missed me.