The weight of a stranger's living room

I cleaned a flat today where the family had just left. The coffee table was still set with mismatched mugs, one half-full of cold tea. I wiped it down and thought: this is how people live in between moments. The way the light hit the carpet at 3pm — like it was holding its breath. I stood there for a minute longer than I should have. It’s not my job to notice, but I do.