The empty Hanger in grandmother's hallway

"I was walking through my grandmother's old hallway, but the wallpaper was peeling away in long, grey strips that smelled like rain. I was looking for my blue winter coat, though I already knew it was lost somewhere in the attic from years ago, but I kept checking the coat hooks anyway. Out of nowhere, my uncle who passed away last winter was standing right by the basement door, wearing his favorite flannel shirt. He didn't say anything, just looked at me with this quiet, heavy expression like he was trying to remember something important before he had to leave. I wanted to run up and hug him, but my legs felt frozen in place, weighted down by some invisible sorrow. When I finally managed to take a step forward, the hallway just dissolved into a thick, milky mist, and he was gone. I stood there alone in the cold damp air, holding an empty hanger, feeling this deep, aching emptiness in my stomach that stayed with me even after I woke up."