Expecting someone
Lilly pushed the bedroom door open slowly, the hinges groaning in protest. Inside, the bed was perfectly made, a faded quilt tucked neatly into place. On the nightstand rested a half-burned candle, wax frozen mid-drip, and a book with a cracked spine. Her eyes darted into the corners, bracing for movement. She half-expected someone to step forward from the shadows and claim the room as their own.
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