like I said, there’s just this…pall. That’s the best way to describe it.
I’d be willing to bet the dead guy died right here in the house. Who knows? Maybe he’s still hanging around.
“I don’t know…it’s a little dark,” I tell Verna.
“Picture it on a sunny day, without the vinyl blinds. It would be so much more—”
“No, Tracey’s talking about the way it feels, not the way it looks,” Jack cuts in. “Dark as in sad and depressing.”
So he gets it, too. I shoot him a surprised and grateful look. Good to know we’re in sync—and that houses really do have personalities.
Heaven only knows house number five does. Meet the plain girl who’s nice enough but just tries too hard to be liked.
Architecturally, it’s what you draw with crayons on manila paper when you’re in first grade: a simple rectangle with a triangle sitting on top of it. First floor: door centered between two windows, second floor: three windows, each placed directly above a window or door on the first floor.
Most people would drive by and never give it a second glance if it didn’t self-consciously scream, Hey, look at me! Here I am!
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