He stopped at the gate, pulling the key and the photograph from his pocket. The brass glinted faintly in the waning light, the couple’s smiles staring back. He clenched both in his hand, drawing a breath. Then, before doubt could root him to the spot, Ethan pushed the gate open and walked up the path to knock.
The knock echoed dully against the wooden door. For a long while, nothing stirred. Ethan shifted his weight, wondering if the woman had been wrong, if no one truly lived here. Then came the slow drag of footsteps, uneven, hesitant, as though pulled forward against their will.