*Michael*
It's nearly two in the morning as I let myself into my massive city residence. Leaving the heavy mahogany door open, I let the light from the lamps lining the drive chase back the shadows a bit so I can make out the shapes. I cross over to the wall, flipping the switch and turning on the light.
This residence, built nearly a century and a half ago, lacks the inviting warmth of my terrace house on Mae Lane. However, my terrace house could easily fit into the foyer and front parlor, leaving space for walking around the edges.
Closing the door, I walk further in, glance into the parlor. All the furniture, portraits, paintings, and statuettes are shrouded in white, giving the residence a ghostly feel that suits my mood. I don't want to see the portrait of Elise hanging over the f
