the city in the distance, but the world felt still, as if it were holding its breath for us.
Moving in was a whirlwind of boxes, mismatched furniture, and the constant clatter of the girls’ toys rolling across the hardwood floors. The house, with its high ceilings and large windows, seemed to breathe with us. The basement door stayed locked, its brass knob gathering a thin layer of dust as the weeks passed.
Emily would sometimes stare at it, her brow furrowing as if she were trying to solve a
puzzle. Grace, on the other hand, would glance at it and then look away, a small smile playing on her lips as if she knew a secret she wasn’t ready to share.
One night, after the girls had finally drifted off, I found myself standing in the hallway, the glow from the streetlamp outside spilling through the front windows. The basement door loomed, its wood dark and the lock cold to the touch. I ran a finger along the edge, feeling the faint vibration of the house’s heartbeat through the
