Good bones
The air inside carried the scent of aged wood and long-settled dust, yet surprisingly, it wasn’t unbearable. It was dry, almost preserved, and far cleaner than the exterior suggested. They stepped into a wide foyer where a grand staircase curved upward, its hand-carved railings worn but beautiful. Tall ceilings arched overhead, lending the space a strange kind of elegance. “She’s got bones,” Mr. Dalton said softly, smiling as though proud. “Waiting for the right pair of hands.”
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