As I reach up to change the bulb, the light drifts over to the corner.

“Caitlyn, keep the light here, please.”

She moves it to illuminate the bulb.

I carefully remove the old lightbulb, careful not to break any more of the brittle glass. I screw in the new bulb. As soon as it’s in, the bulb blinks on. It fills the room with a much more powerful glow than the old one. I can’t help but sneak a glance at the far corner, but it’s empty.

I pull the chain, turning off the light, and walk towards Caitlyn.

“Let’s go,” I say, shepherding her up the stairs.

“Why did you turn it off?” she asks. “Aren’t we coming back down?”

“Nah. Not today.”

By the time we reach the top of the stairs and emerge back into the sun-flooded kitchen, I already feel slightly stupid. It was a shadow, nothing more. I had an atrocious night of sleep and an exhausting day of unpacking. Yes, Caitlyn is helping, but I am literally doing the heavy lifting.

And this house.

I love it. I do, but it’s going to take a while to get used to it. It would be different if Nicole were here and my subconscious knows that too. Why else would I be seeing visions of her? I’ll get used to this but I’m starting to worry about how long this adjustment will take, and not only for my own sanity, but for Caitlyn’s sake, too. I have to stay strong for her, because I’m worried that soon, she’ll start going through that same adjustment, if she hasn’t started already. I have to accept that I’m a grieving widower, who is all of a sudden raising a daughter on his own, and we’ve just moved into a big, old house. This is going to mess with my head a little bit, and if we’re being completely honest, the basement’s creepy. All basements inherently are. There’s something about them that suggests isolation, or even a grave.

“What’s next?” Caitlyn says, clapping her hands like she’s all business.

“Living room?” I suggest.

She turns on her heels and points commandingly to the entranceway.

“Living room!” she calls out and stomps away.

Okay. She might be adjusting much better than I am.

6

We’ve conquered the dining room and the living room.

It took less time than I thought, and that’s including the times we stopped to have a “popping fight” with the bubble wrap.

But that was all that Caitlyn’s concentration could take, and I’m unpacking the Writing Room on my own.