II.
It’s dark inside, though the sun has just begun to set. There are cobwebbed chandeliers and creaky floorboards and everything. It smells like mildew, mothballs, and something else. “This place is fantastic,” I whisper, unsure why I’m doing so.
“If you say so,” he whispers back. “...Why are we whispering?”
I grin. “Because there’s something here, and we don’t want it to hear us.”
He drops my hand. “Laura, if you’re going to be childish about this I’m going home.”
I smile apologetically. “I’m sorry, babe. I just want to take some pictures, and then we can go, I promise.”
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