The house smells different now, or at least, that’s what I imagine. I haven’t been there since summer, when I thought it would always be waiting for me. I can still picture it though: the salt air drifting through the open windows, the faint hum of the ceiling fan. The floors would creak in the same familiar spots, and the ocean breeze would sneak in under the sliding door. The mornings smelled like sunscreen and salt, the kind that stuck to your skin even before you made it to the sand.