Who lived in you, House?
I drove by you again today. I noticed the girl, standing, staring at the road in contemplation.
I saw her, and you saw her, and we both saw her.
What will you do, House, when she stops contemplating? When she makes that first step towards the oncoming traffic late in afternoon?
Will you rage with fury against your panes, scream and cry?
"Don't do it! You have more to give, to see! I've spent years alive, and I've seen life and new beginnings and death of course, but this is not your time!
Their lives were done, their lives were full and beautiful such as yours!"
Will you attempt to call her back? "Please don't leave me! All alone! You are alone and I am alone, and we need one another!"
What will you do with the one who lived in you, House?
...what will you do, I wonder late at night, when the lights of police flash red and blue against your panes?
Will you curl up and sob for the loss of another owner? Or an owner's child, as it were? She's not older than a teen, I suppose.
Will you stare dispassionately outside, numb to the loss as you have had so many owners come and go inside you?
Will you grow yourself to be warm, to comfort the sobbing mother, the stoic father, the confused brother? Or will you grow cold and callous towards them?
...who lived in you, House, to make you who you are today?
I wonder this, as I often drive by.
I think of all the lives that could have been, would have been. The child who flinches from quick voices, quicker hands. The woman who hides her face beneath smiles and make-up.
The man who stares at his shaking hand in the mirror gripping the pill bottle.
The animal who hungers. The animal who sleeps through his hunger.
Would your house neighbors come near, and tell you it's not your fault? Does it not help much like the humans who do the same? Empty words, empty feelings.
Only you know whether it was your fault or not.
What do you believe, House? Was it your fault she took that first step? Was it your fault the father in the family before failed to look behind him as he backed up?
Was it your fault when someone broke in years back, and left behind disaster?
House, I wonder about you. And I mourn for you.