I carried only a candle.It seemed wrongto arrive empty-handed. The house had been waitingfar longer than I had. I sat beneath its broken windows,watching the flame shiverthough the eveninghad forgotten the wind. The ivy climbed patiently,burying doors,claiming chimneys,covering old mistakesone leaf at a time. Somewhere upstairs, a floorboard sighed. Not loudly. Not enoughto frighten me…

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