It was little more than splintered timbers, broken glass and cracked bricks overgrown by time. The orange-rusted carcass of an ancient truck squatted like some dinosaur in repose.
The old man opened the truck door for his wife and they stared for a time, neither speaking. This had been their home for thirty years until the twister had destroyed it and they moved on. So many memories those sagging walls contained, so much love and laughter, tears and sorrow.
At length, they left secure in the knowledge the old place may have been abandoned but would certainly never be forgotten.
This story was written for the weekly Visual Dare 25: forgotten.