Regardless, the well or cistern could have been part of the topography, for it did not look fashioned in any way, merely capped. It was as if a massive log had been shoved down into the mud. Its base was overgrown with weeds so sun-bleached they’d come to resemble nerves.

Sam frowned at the thought of how its water might taste.

The house had no back door, so Sam hastened his way to the open doorframe that faced the incline, excited by the prospect of the house’s interior.

The forest had shared its debris with the main hall. The oiled floorboards were warped enough to appear as a heaving sea of wood. The floor was carpeted with broken boughs and leaves and dirt. Sam clicked several shots of the living room with its lone furnishing of a broken armchair; of the pantry that was lined with dusty preserves; of the kitchen with its dented woodstove.

To his mind he’d already collected more than ample proof that this location would suit the film, but just to cross every T he opted for a few quick shots of the second storey. After that he would go back home. He had a strange and sudden need to snuggle up to Andrea, in a well-lit room, with the world held at bay beyond locked doors.

Something in the way the main stairs creaked underfoot gave Sam pause. He came to question whether the house was truly abandoned after all. It must have been the echo of the groaning wood, but the sound managed to plant the idea that the upper floor was occupied.

“Hello?” he called, only scarcely aware of the fact that his hand had begun fishing one of the contracts for location use out of his hip-bag. Drawing some absurd sense of security from the legal papers in his fist, Sam scaled the steps, praying they would not cave beneath him. He listened for noises that never managed to overpower the ones caused by his own motions.

An investigation of the first two rooms revealed precious little beyond more dust, greater decay. Sam’s discovery of a dismantled crib in the front bedroom caused a lump to form in his throat. Why should he be so moved by so banal an image—slatted wood stacked in a corner? No doubt because he and Andrea would likely never have to do the same in their home.

His emotions were running unbridled, a delayed response to his argument with Andrea. One last room and then home to see if his own desire for a family could be rescued or simply left to erode until his heart became as rotted and as hollow as this house.