The trees bowed lowaround the old house,their branches woven togetherlike black lace. I placed a candleon the cracked stone steps. Its light barely reached the doorway. That was enough. Some placesdo not wishto be fully seen. The windows stared back,their empty eyesfilled with shadowsthat movedjust slowerthan my own. I never crossedthe threshold. Some invitationsare spokenwithout…

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