Just after four o’clock on an unexceptional, late-autumn afternoon, Lillith grappled her luggage from the trunk of a second-hand station wagon before approaching the slightly dilapidated house. Everything she owned fit comfortably in two small suitcases and a handbag.

The gray sky bore down upon the scene, suffocating.

Moving wasn’t the hard part for Lillith. She had lost touch with her friends long ago. Sitting across from them in a crowded cafeteria, the silence between them had filled oceans. Since her father left, she seldom found comfort in anyone. She neither laughed nor smiled. She was empty.

While in fine condition, everything about the building seemed coated with a tangible veil of decay. It was large though, far larger than the sunlit, two bedroom apartment she and her mother had left behind in Santa Fe. The yard before her was tinged yellow – a dying hue, the porch wrapped around, and the air smelled of honeysuckle and morning dew despite the hour.

She would like it here.