There was little furniture in the house and few belongings to decorate it with . As I turned throughout the small house , in search of the dog whose barks I could no longer hear , I found that the house was trying to smile at me with evidences of shadows across its halls from long-forgotten pictures to show that it was happy when it could not frown more deeply with sadness at the fact that the only visitors it was to receive in these years were a deranged dog and child who broke one of its precious windows .
After a while , I heard more footsteps . Quiet ones this time , that were slow and steady like a heartbeat . I was partially relieved to know that the dog was near , but also shocked because for a few moments , I forgot that there was somebody in the house with me .
I followed the sound of the footprints throughout the house , but I could not find the owner of them . When I paused for a moment , their sound penetrated the silence of the house from all around me . Until finally they stopped , right behind me . I turned around and felt oddly unsatisfied and annoyed .
In front of me were faded pink shoes that belonged to some little girl who had probably long ago grown up . I sighed and shrugged my shoulders and shouted once more for the dog .
But , this time , I heard my voice echo throughout the house . That ’ s strange , I thought . When I first came into the house , nothing echoed . I called out once more , and my voice did not echo . Instead , another voice answered like the sound of a cello after the violin has finished her solo . “ Expectation is the root of all heartache , my friend . For we are such stuff as dreams are made of ; and our little life is rounded with a sleep .” I turned around in search of the owner of the voice and tripped over my own feet .