She cradled a box of memories where photographs from birthday parties, autographs given in yearbooks, compact discs created by best friends, and tickets from movie theatres were enclosed. Boxes lined up against the bedroom wall, packed with books, picture frames, movies, and toys. She stood in what once was her bedroom, where posters covered so much wall space she’d forgotten how the walls looked. She turned to see a bare door propped open, where signs that read, “KNOCK BEFORE ENTERING!” and, “ABIGAIL’S ROOM- GIRLS ONLY,” once hung.
A tear formed in her eye and fell.
It’s all only memories now.