Ian left the sad grey place and walked towards his house. He stood at the door for a moment, feeling a strange sense of deja vu wash over him, then bent down and retrieved something from underneath the welcome mat.
He shook his head disapprovingly; he had always told his parents not to leave their key underneath the mat, but it seemed that they hadn't bothered to listen to him.
He put the key in the lock and felt the click that told him he was in. He walked inside and smelt something old and musty. It smelled just like his parents.
He walked further in, trying not to breathe in the dust coating everything. He raised his head and looked up the twisting stairs.
"Mum?" he yelled up into the nothingness. There was no answer, and he rounded the banister and went up the stairs. They creaked under his weight, and the carpet covering them worryingly shifted as he stepped on it.
At the top of the stairs there was an old hat-rack which had been there ever since he was little. He remembered going to the market with his mother and buying it. She had always put it on the top level for some strange reason. He reached out and fingered an old velvet-covered hat which was hanging on it. That had been his favourite hat.
The second level was no different from the first; everything was old and musty and smelt of aged people. It was a place of forgotten memories.
"Mum?" Ian called again. There was still no answer, and he went into the nearest room on the left. He remembered this as the master bedroom. There was his mother,