Introductions

Patrick bought the house for “two TV dinners and a song” (he told his mum), and then refused to answer any of the questions that came afterwards (“Does it have heat?” “Why was it so cheap?” “What happened there?”). He moved into the small rectory, marveling at the brilliant renovations (no detail had been overlooked to preserve it as a Victorian Gothic gem). Patrick passed a cold spot on the stairs (bitterly cold) and said, “Oh, I’m so sorry; please excuse me!” as he continued up. In the main bedroom, before anything else, he took a clean cloth from his pocket and dusted the top of the window table - setting down a stunning bouquet of fresh flowers in a crystal vase. “I bought your house, Ellen,” Patrick said softly. “I will be very tender with it and guard it like a precious jewel. I respect all that you’ve done. I’ll give the entry and parlor floors a gentle cleanse and wax first, as it’s criminal what everyone’s shoes have done.” One of the drapes stirred (although there was no air in the room); Patrick nodded. “Yes, absolutely; let’s have a bit of light - but nothing garish.” He pulled the drapes back a bit on both sides and smiled. “A dusting, a washing, and plenty of linseed oil; we’ll get your room in order right after the floors.” He heard a rasp, a thump and felt his breathing catch sharply at the base of the neck. “I work in the morgue, Dear,” Patrick said warmly, beaming at the closet door, “so I feel a lot of last moments secondhand. But let me ask you: if you stay, wouldn’t you rather dwell on the brightest moments instead? Let’s light the lamps and set the window panes to gleaming!” And Patrick felt the floor tremble as if someone had triple-stepped excitedly in front of the door to the next room. “Why, I’d LOVE to see the rest! Thank you!” he said excitedly. There was no reason to fear the heaviness in the air, for he was no stranger to loneliness and confusion himself.