Thirty-One
The house hid from the street behind a forest’s worth of trees. Now Melissa was here, inside that heavy gate, able to see the edges the house presented to incoming visitors. The breeze blew crisply across the gravel path. She stood for a moment, convincing herself all would be easy.
Melissa jumped when a man’s voice said, “Which one are you?” His voice was very deep. Gravel-deep, with a hint of the rustle of autumn leaves. It fitted the garden, somehow. So did his looks, when he slipped out from between the trees. He was different shades of brown and red, from his skin to his shoes.
“I’m Melissa,” she said, tilting her head severely to look him directly in the face. He was very tall and very, very thin. If he walked over a crack in the path, he would fall right in and never c
