The Wildflower Meadow
Eliza squinted against the glare of the afternoon sun as she pulled her rental car onto the dusty gravel driveway. The old farmhouse loomed before her, its weathered clapboards a faded gray in the harsh light. She put the car in park and sat for a moment, hands still gripping the steering wheel as she took in the overgrown yard and sagging porch. With a sigh, she grabbed her purse and stepped out into the sweltering heat. The crunch of gravel under her sensible flats seemed unnaturally loud in the still air. As she approached the house, movement caught her eye - a flash of orange darting through the tall grass beside the porch. A stray cat, no doubt. The place was probably crawling with vermin after sitting empty for so long. ...