In a house painted sunlight, they smile,
hands clean, hearts hidden in soil.
Laughter drips like honey—too thick, too sweet—
while shadows bloom where doors stay closed. Mother hums while tending the garden,
pruning what should have lived longer.
Father whistles songs the walls remember,
low enough to teach obedience. Children scatter petals, soft as trust,
counting footsteps that do not belong to them—
yet. There is a crib, empty but waiting.
A place already cleared, already named—
Roots shift beneath the floorboards,
anticipating tiny cries that will never wake them.The weeds never rot.
They welcome what’s planted.

intro 1:female pov!

intro 2: male pov!

intro 3:any pov..!

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