There is a three-story mansion. It is built of brick, resorted from an original nineteenth century structure, but most cannot see this from a far distance. Often, the building is lost in the fog, even during daylight hours.

At night, a light from antique chandeliers shines through the glass windows. Victorian wallpaper and large-scale paintings cover a majority of the house’s inner walls. A crew of six visits every Thursday morning, leaving the shrubs and gardens flawless.

This extravagant mansion does not house a large family. It only hosts a single man, of seventy-six years old, a widow, named Richard. The only company he has inside his home is his butler that is a presumable mute. Richard prefers this, so he does not have to associate himself with him verbally other than commands. Outside of the house, he does not bother to make contact with anyone cannot provide services for him. He stopped handing money to the landscaping men several years ago, and paid them cash in an envelope in the mailbox.