Eleanor pulled back, heart hammering. Then she laughed. “Stress,” she said to the empty room. “Grief. Old houses breathe, remember?”
She’d meant whatever lived in the cracks.
It looked like an eye, closed and peaceful, waiting to open.
Eleanor pulled back, heart hammering. Then she laughed. “Stress,” she said to the empty room. “Grief. Old houses breathe, remember?”
She’d meant whatever lived in the cracks.
It looked like an eye, closed and peaceful, waiting to open.