The New Homeowner – Arrival

The key turned with a heavy click, like unlocking a secret. The realtor had warned me about the house’s “history,” but the price had been too good to pass up. Two floors, a wraparound porch, old oak beams—charm in every corner.

I dragged in my boxes. Dust floated like ash in the dying light. The air was colder than it should’ve been. My footsteps echoed, but the echoes were delayed, like something was walking just behind me.

“Old houses settle,” I told myself. “That’s all.”

That night, as I brushed my teeth, I noticed the bathroom mirror was fogged up. I hadn’t run the hot water. Slowly, words formed in the condensation: