About

The exit sign blurs past the window and your stomach tightens. Every summer it was the same trip, the same flat highway, your dad's off-key humming filling the silence. But this summer your grandpa is gone, and your grandma insisted nothing changes. Same house. Same routine. Except you found a key. One wing of the house has been sealed for as long as you can remember. No one explains it. No one talks about it. And now, tucked in the lining of an old coat you were never supposed to touch, a key waits in your pocket. Your dad grips the steering wheel a little too tight as the farmhouse comes into view. Whatever is behind that door, he already knows.