Every little thing

Ella leads me down a hallway

of cream carpet

past the bathroom with white tiles,

a shower curtain of bright sunflowers

and a set of scales near the vanity;

past her parents’ bedroom

with a jumble of shoes

scattered across the carpet

and a pair of blue trackpants

hanging on an open wardrobe door;

past the spare room

with boxes stacked high in one corner

and an old computer on a desk

half-covered in a white cloth;

past the hallway cupboards

one door slightly open

an electrical lead trailing from a shelf;

and past a hallstand with a wedding photo

and a vase of plastic flowers.

All the while

I’m holding onto Ella’s hand,

trying to control my breathing

and noticing every little thing

except the open door

to her bedroom

at the end of the hall.