The window panes never recovered after the last big shakeup. Wind, rain,
even dusty sunlight wore away at the room, peeling paint from chairs,
planting mold colonies in corners and upholstery,
bringing in flies and fleas and spiders.

Yet it had been a fine room once, a room in which alliances were made, secrets shared,
adventures undertaken, loves found and lost and found again. It had been a room
with a heart of spun glass, thin and sparkling.

Maybe it could be that room again. Somewhere in the
shadows between sheet-covered furniture, a boy struggled with a world turned inside out,
a struggling cab driver and a determined young woman fought to escape
a harsh world, and others scrambled and clawed for life.

It could come back again. It could. All it needed
was time and some small effort, and the lives
could come back again.

Maybe it's time.