The House

3. The intro cont cont

You slide into the car. The upholstery curves to cradle you like it was sewn specially for the shape of your body, and the seatbelt glides into place with a well-engineered click. The car drives out of the airport and through [redacted] and then soon the city is left behind.

The road undulates over rolling hills like a hand tracing down a woman’s side. Driveways peel away at intervals, leading through elaborate gates to the homes hidden behind them. These become more infrequent and the road itself more narrow, until you realize that you are now on a driveway of your own. It makes several broad swoops, through groves of trees and well-manicured lawns, until with a final turn the House appears on the horizon.

It is not really a house – it is a House, with a capital ‘H’. It is more like a mansion and then some, the kind of place you only see on TV, that’s been changed by economic circumstances into a museum, or a wedding venue, although you would have to invite half of the phone book not to look tiny on its palatial lawn.

Two wings stretch out on either side of the wide driveway, like arms welcoming you to opulence and luxury. In front of you, the center of the house has long white columns at least three stories tall.

The car stops in the precise center, and your driver hops out and walks around to open your door. You look out but then you hesitate. She gives you an encouraging smile.

Do you step out of the car? If so, touch here.

If you stay in the car, touch here.