His weirdest creation

Rosemary’s gaze drifted around the small attic home, her eyes glistening with memory. “My father built this farmhouse decades ago. My mother wasn’t around much, but we managed. He and I had each other. This attic became his workshop, his place to dream. He built odd little inventions here, always tinkering. But this…” Her hand gestured to the hidden house itself. “This was by far his strangest creation.”
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