“They left in the middle of a meal,” I said, my voice trembling. In the world of urban exploration, you see a lot of trash, but you rarely see a house where the inhabitants simply evaporated.
We moved to the living room. A grand piano stood in the corner, covered in a thick grey blanket of dust. On top of it sat a half-drunk glass of wine, the liquid now just a dark, sticky residue at the bottom.
Thomas pointed to the fireplace. There was a pile of ash, but it wasn’t wood. It was burnt documents. I crouched down and used a pen to sift through the charred remains. One corner of a paper was still intact. It had a government seal on it.
[readalso]