like　the　lawn　had　been　flooded—waist…high—with　green；　feathery　waves。

And　the　house　was　there；　but　it　was　not　the　same。　Though　nothing　had　changed

on　the　outside；　the

emptiness　screamed　from　the　blank　windows。　It　was　creepy。　For　the　first　time

since　I'd　seen　the　beautiful

house；　it　looked　like　a　fitting　haunt　for　vampires。

I　hit　the　brakes；　looking　away。　I　was　afraid　to　go　farther。

But　nothing　happened。　No　voice　in　my　head。

So　I　left　the　engine　running　and　jumped　out　into　the　fern　sea。　Maybe；　like

Friday　night；　if　I　walked

forward

I　approached　the　barren；　vacant　face　slowly；　my　truck　rumbling　out　a

forting　roar　behind　me。　I

stopped　when　I　got　to　the　porch　stairs；　because　there　was　nothing　here。　No

lingering　sense　of　their

presence　of　his　presence。　The　house　was　solidly　here；　but　it　meant　little。

Its　concrete　reality　would　not

counteract　the　nothingness　of　the　nightmares。

I　didn't　go　any　closer。　I　didn't　want　to　look　in　the　windows。　I　wasn't　sure

which　would　be　harder　to　see。

If　the　rooms　were　bare；　echoing　empty　from　floor　to　ceiling；　that　would

certainly　hurt。　Like　my

grandmother's　funeral；　when　my　mother　had　insisted　that　I　stay　outside　during

the　viewing。　She　had　said

that　I　didn't　need　to　see　Gran　that　way；　to　remember　her　that　way；　rather　than

alive。

But　wouldn't　it　be　worse　if　there　were　no　change？　If　the　couches　sat　just　as

I'd　last　seen　them；　the

paintings　on　the　walls—worse　still；　the　piano　on　its　low　platform？　It　would

be　second　only　to　the　house

disappearing　all　together；　to　see　that　there　was　no　physical　possession　that

tied　them　in　anyway。　That