The house was firmly planted just off the dusty dirt road outside town. It was all but forgotten by the owners and even Harry, the real estate agent who had placed the for sale sign in the yard so long ago. Not enough cars drove by the old yellow dwelling to generate any interest in buying it.

In fact, the only person who thought about the farmhouse with any regularity was Alice. She had lived there for longer than she could remember. Any alarm over the possibility of losing her home when it had gone up for sale had long since vanished. She paid her rent on time and always had. She knew that the son of the old farmer who had built the place was too busy with his important job in the city. He rested easier knowing someone was there.

Alice had grown comfortable in the passage of the years. Her routines were built around quietly tending to the garden and sitting in her large wicker chair with her cat Luna on summer evenings. The months passed, and the years were not marked by changing dates but by the gentle shifts of the earth. It was the buying of the firewood for the stove when the air started to chill that marked another winter within those cozy walls, and the first brilliant pop of dandelions that gave her hope for another spring.

Sometimes, she even wondered if she would be allowed to live out the rest of her day there on the edge of the ever-growing town with only Luna for company. The thought of moving made her homesick before she had ever left.

She wasn’t expecting the sound of the phone shattering the silence of a calm afternoon. When she picked it up, she heard the screech of tires and far-away car horns before the hurried voices came through to her. It was the owner.

“Hello Alice, how have you been?” He didn’t stop to give her a chance to reply. “I have some news, I’m afraid. You know the house had been for sale for some time. Well, we have a buyer. Of course, they know you’re renting, so they’ve agreed to give you three months to find someplace else. Harry will stop by soon to go over the details.”

The line went dead before Alice had a chance to utter a word. She picked up a meowing Luna and slowly made her way to the old, worn couch in her living room. Her living room, she thought, would soon just be the living room. She couldn’t imagine ever leaving. How could she settle into the rhythms of another place?

When Harry’s car thundered in the driveway, she was still sitting there, eyes vaguely focused on something in the distance. She let him in and offered him a glass of water in the kitchen, but he didn’t want to sit down. He didn’t want to stay for long.

The house was sold. The new owners would move in themselves; they were a young couple with children who wanted a backyard to play in, and she would have to go. She must have known that one day, this would happen.

She nodded but didn’t say a word, and Harry left his card on the table and stepped back out into the sunshine of the summer day.

Alice went out to water her flowers as she always had. The next day passed in the familiar hazy blur of summer heat, and the next. Soon enough, the morning carried the scent of frost with them, and the trees started to change. As the weeks and months ticked by, Harry would call every so often. And she would say she was looking. She had several garage sales, and long-forgotten friends and family came to sort through all the objects that had accompanied her life. She didn’t buy wood for the stove but curled up with her cat on the couch for warmth.

She wondered how the creaky floorboards would take to the flurry of movement that young feet would bring. The walls were tired, just like she was, and the hinges on the doors were stiff as her own joints. Maybe the house needed a new life.

She was more focused without the clutter of her memories. The wind blew hard and cold, but the rooms shone with the promise of a white canvas. By the time the day came and she was gone, only the couch and coffee table were left for the new occupants to get rid of.

When they moved in, they found a grey cat yowling at the door, so they let it in with the intention of taking it to the shelter. The house was warm despite the harsh winter outside. The keys and a blooming bouquet of flowers had been left on the table. They asked Harry about Alice to thank her, but she could never be located. She was never seen around town again or anywhere else, as though she had vanished into thin air.

Every so often, they would catch a flutter of movement out of the corner of their eyes or find some household chore completed when no one remembered doing it. But they were comfortable there, and they could live with a few bumps in the night.