Inside, the shadows waited. Still. Silent. And not quite empty. Claire took a deep breath, rolled up her sleeves, and stepped inside. The barn was worse than she remembered. Cobwebs draped from the beams like faded curtains. Dust blanketed everything—tools, shelves, a rusted wheelbarrow tipped on its side.
Mouse droppings dotted the corners, and one of the windows had shattered inward, littering the floor with glass and leaves. Claire sighed. “Okay, Dad. Let’s see what you left me.” She found the old push broom behind the feed door and began sweeping, pausing only to cough into her elbow when the air thickened.