Gone; just gone. She departed when I was ten years old. I waited for her to come back, but she never.
Mum's stuff were scattered on the floor. Mum was one of those people who took pride in domestic bliss, but could never extend that same manner to her own room.
Her perfume fragranced the air and her voice echoed. It was the same as every day, only, she wasn't there. She wasn't there to spray her perfume; to talk or mess her stuff up.
"She just went to the shops." Dad said holding me. His eyes breaming with tears.