I froze.
Grace whispered, “See?”
I opened the door.
The basement was dim, but I could see enough.
A sharp smell hit me first. Sour. Damp.
I took one step down, then another.
The basement was dim, but I could see enough.
And then my fear changed.
It wasn’t a body.
It wasn’t some hidden nightmare.
I just stood there.
It was a shrine.
There was an old couch with a blanket folded over one arm. Shelves lined with albums. Framed pictures of Daniel’s wife everywhere. Children’s drawings. Boxes labeled in black marker. A little tea set on a child-sized table. A cardigan hanging over a chair. A pair of women’s rain boots by the wall. An old TV beside stacks of DVDs.
The smell was mildew. A pipe was leaking into a bucket. Water had stained part of the wall.
I just stood there.
“And Daddy talks to her.”
Grace smiled. “This is where Mom lives.”
I looked at her. “What do you mean, sweetheart?”
She pointed around the room. “Daddy brings us here so we can be with her.”
Emily hugged her rabbit tighter. “We watch Mommy on TV.”
Grace nodded. “And Daddy talks to her.”
I looked back at the room.
Daniel’s grief had a locked room.
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