We slowed down out path while smelling something in the air, it seemed to be some weird odor from human body. We kept walking, the house standing right in front of us. It was Mrs. Doolittle’s tiny delicate house with shinny marble walls. The walls are as cold as ice even it was in a hot summer day.
We knocked on the door, no one answered. “Oh, daddy. Mrs. Doolittle has a doorbell now!” We clicked the button, “Moo… Moo” That was the funniest doorbell sound I had ever heard, but it was just her style, humorous and always made people happy.
Here came the footsteps, as getting closer, my heart leaped with joy and flushed with those good memories!
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“Yes?” said the man who opened the door. “Well, we are here to see Mrs. Doolittle, is she here?” I asked, confused. He led us inside, made some tea which tasted like… salted fish. And he led us to the backyard where we saw the tomb with the name on it-Mrs. Doolittle, beloved mother, brave adventure explorer.