The Coop

At night, when I am in my bed and all alone, I often think of the old abandoned chicken coop where my sister and I played when we were young. The coop was built of several types of wood and the tin roof of the building was slanted. On the southern side—the taller side—there were three open doorways where there had once been doors. I could tell because some of the rusty hinges still remained. Each doorway led to a different compartment, but in each compartment was nothing but darkness and rotting straw. Wandering in on a winter morning I could momentarily escape the wind.