After breakfast, we left the house to go see his Witch friend. We haven’t talked much since he told me he would take me to see her. Throughout our interaction, his expression remained unchanged, making it difficult for me to determine whether he believed me or not. I couldn’t find any concern, worry, or even doubt on his face; he wasn’t showing anything. I don’t know if that should worry me. Maybe he just thinks I am crazy and bringing me to this witch to figure that out.
After driving for some time, we arrived at an old, dilapidated white house at the end of a long driveway. The grey shutters were chipped and hanging loosely from the windows, and the white paint was peeling off. The porch seemed unstable and looked like it could potentially collapse if anyone attempted to step on it.
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