“What the fuck?” I muttered. I had wanted to leave the door open until I found my rust spray, to fix the jam. I remember thinking, Just my luck, having to pry open a door two seconds after I walk in. I sighed, wrenching at the heavy door with all of my strength. Definitely fucking stuck.

I scrubbed my hand over my forehead. No matter. There had to be a backdoor. I wandered through the carved arch to my left, pausing inside what looked to be the dining room. This was the room I had seen through the bay window, curving to the front through the parlor. All the furniture looked custom to the room, the long table still set with delicate china. The hardwood floors carried through this room, covered with a well-worn rug. Rich blue wallpaper lined the walls, and I immediately understood the care the original owners had taken in building this place. Every detail was carefully considered. I hoped I would make them proud with what I planned to do when I renovated. The room looked perfectly frozen in time, a memory waiting to be revisited. I trailed my finger over a cornflower-blue plate, expecting dust to coat my finger. Surprisingly, though, the tableware was clean. In fact, I would’ve expected a lot more dust everywhere for an abandoned house, but the inside seemed to be in much better condition than the outside. The realtor must have gotten her story wrong–obviously the bank had people checking in on the place. Sure, there was some wear and tear, but in overall cleanliness and condition? I couldn’t have asked for better.

A thump from the second floor startled me. I whirled around. My heart thudded in my ears, and I struggled to hear over it, to figure out who else was here with me. I waited one moment, then two. A third, to be safe. But the house was utterly silent. I chewed on my lip, giving my head a quick shake. The grumpy lawyer and his ghost stories had gotten to me. That was the only explanation. This house was locked up tight as a drum–no one was getting in or out. Old homes had creaky floors and settling foundations. Maybe a family of mice had made a home in an unused bedroom somewhere.

Except, those were pretty big mice to thump so loud.

Except nothing. I had bigger things to worry about than an old ghost story or two. Namely, finding where the hell the back door was.