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 wood.
“It’s just junk,” Daniel had said.
I thought about the countless times I’d asked, “What’s down there?” and received the same answer. It was reasonable, it made sense, and I let it be. The house settled around me, the creak of the floorboards like a lullaby, and I turned away, the lock clicking back into place behind me.
