Lulu stood outside the house awkwardly, glancing around like a suspicious person that was afraid of anyone spotting her.
It was a cute house, the kind you'd see in a heartwarming holiday movie—a cozy one-story with a white picket fence, flower beds (still well trimmed but beginning to have the first sign of weeds), and faded blue shutters that framed the windows. Even in its neglected state, it had a warmth to it, like a place where good memories were made.
"You have a beautiful home, Henry" Lulu remarked. And she meant it.
But the old man beside her—Henry Venderwood, as he had later introduced himself—just sighed. "It hasn't really been a home for a long time. Not since my wife passed. And especially not after my daughter left."
Lulu shifted uncomfortably. 'Well… this is heavy.'
He chuckled awkwardly, likely sensing the suddenly cold atmosphere. "Apologies. I haven't had company in a long time, so perhaps my social skills have regressed"
"No! No…" Lulu comforted, before quickly changing the subject. "Alright, let's get this over with. How am I supposed to get in?"
Henry gestured to the side of the house. "There's a spare key under that flowerpot."
Lulu side-eyed him. "A flowerpot? That's the most cliché hiding spot ever. Write up there with the hiding it under the welcome mat"
Henry smiled embarrassedly. "I actually used to keep it under the mat when my daughter was still young, but one time in her teens she said it was a poor hiding spot. And so I moved it to under that pot."
Lulu stared blankly, "Well…thankfully, this seems to be a very nice neighbourhood…"
Otherwise, she didn't even want to think about how he would have ended up.
'Well, I guess he did die anyways… wait! Is that how he died?! Am I about to walk into a crime scene?! IS HIS BODY STILL IN THERE?!' Lulu was horrified at the prospect that she could be walking into a scene from her nightmares, laden with numerous bugs chowing down on his decaying corpse.
Before her imagination could spiral further, Henry let out a chuckle likely sensing her hesitation. "Relax, dear. I didn't die here."
She blinked at him, mid-horrified thought. "…What?"
"I had a heart attack in the grocery store," he said casually. "If anything, I'm grateful for that. At least someone found me quickly. Imagine if I'd died in here—who knows how long I would have gone undiscovered? I'd probably be half decayed by now."
Shaking that horrifying image from her mind, she hesitantly trudged over to the flowerpot, kneeling down to lift it. Sure enough, a key lay underneath, covered in dust. She picked it up, wiped it off on her jeans, and hesitated.
"You sure this is okay?" she asked, suddenly feeling weird about technically breaking into a dead man's house.
Henry gave her an amused look. "It's my house. I'm inviting you in."
"…Yeah, okay, but you're also dead, so I feel like there's some legal gray area here." Not to mention I'm suddenly not looking forward to what I might find in there…
Still, she didn't let herself think too hard about it and quickly unlocked the door. The lock clicked open, and she stepped inside.
The air was stale. Not exactly musty, but it carried that distinct stillness of a place left untouched. Dust had begun to settle on the furniture, and the smell of wood polish lingered faintly.
Lulu glanced around. The living room was neat—old-fashioned but homey. A worn-out recliner sat in front of the TV, a crocheted blanket draped over the back. Family photos lined the walls, though she noted there weren't any recent ones. The newest-looking picture was of a young woman—Henry's daughter, she assumed—standing in a cap and gown, beaming at the camera.
She swallowed. "So, where's this letter?"
"Office. Down the hall, second door on the left."
Lulu nodded and started forward, feeling an unsettling awareness settle in. The floorboards creaked under her every step, and despite knowing she was alone, she couldn't shake the feeling that she was being watched by a ghost—well technically she was, but a scary one.
'Nope. Nope, nope, nope. This is how horror movies start.'
She moved slower, crawling down the hall. After an eternity, she reached the door, turned the knob, and pushed it open in fear of what may be waiting beyond.
Inside, the office was just as neat as the rest of the house—and also ghostless.
A sturdy wooden desk sat against the far wall, an old-school landline phone and a cup filled with pens on top. Shelves lined the room, filled with books and binders.
Henry pointed toward the desk. "Second drawer."
Lulu hurried over and hesitantly pulled the drawer open. Inside, tucked neatly under a stack of papers, was an envelope with slightly crinkled edges—showing that it had likely been handled a lot as he debated on sending it.
She picked it up and examined it. The front was addressed in neat, careful handwriting: To My Dearest Elise.
Lulu's fingers tightened around it as she glanced at Henry, who was watching her with a faraway expression.
"This is it?" she asked quietly.
He nodded. "That's it."
She exhaled, slipping the letter into her pocket while beginning to look inside the drawer for any stamps. "Alright. Now we just need to mail it to her."
"Mail it? I want to see her read it in person."