She had been a wanderer for most of her life. She went in and out of people’s lives without much thought or care. She didn’t feel wedded to any one place in particular. It was exciting yet felt like nothing. Sometimes, it felt like her life was a set of there being no there, there. She had no idea what many things meant as she lacked a context for most things in life.
She stared at the big tall building. She remembered it well. In a way it seemed like home. Perhaps it was time to return. She glided over across the street and went to the top floor. Boy, was it high up. She still had a bit of that fear of heights. For the most part she now tried to stay low no matter what.
She turned as she heard laughter. A group of women entered the room. They looked so empowered now. One of them was standing where it had happened. Right under that young lady’s feet is where she had been murdered decades ago.
What nostalgia she felt. I guess there truly is no place like home