Kiem emerged from the farmhouse, his mind abuzz with his father's letter. The mystery of the oak tree pressed on him, but a nagging thought snagged at the corner of his mind. The keyhole by the window.
He retraced his steps, entering the dusty room once more. The window with the chipped pane seemed ordinary at first glance. But then, his gaze fell upon the glint of metal – the keyhole nestled beneath the paint.
It was a not a new detail, something he had noticed before. Intrigued, Kiem's hand instinctively went to his pocket. There, the key from his father's desk rested.
Kiem reread the letter, his father's words echoing in his mind. The love and care his father expressed were more valuable than any secret the farmhouse might hold. He traced a finger along the aged paper, the texture a comforting reminder of the man he loved.
The day stretched on, filled with both the joy of rediscovering his father's love and the ache of his absence. Kiem spent hours lost in thought, the dusty room a sanctuary of cherished memories. As the last rays of the sun dipped below the horizon, casting long shadows across the floorboards, Kiem knew it was time to return to the present.
With a final glance around the room, he tucked the letter safely away. His father's message resonated within him, a source of strength and guidance. He would carry those words with him, a reminder of the unwavering love that transcended time.
The mystery of the oak tree and the hidden box remained, but it could wait. For now, Kiem felt a deep sense of peace. He had reconnected with his father, and that was a treasure more valuable than any secret.
The room transported Kiem back in time. The wallpaper, a bold floral pattern in shades of orange and brown, hadn't seen the light of day since it was probably hand-pasted onto the walls in the late 1960s. Sunlight slanted through the window, illuminating motes of dust dancing in the air.
Against the far wall sat a chunky wooden record player, its walnut veneer gleaming faintly. A stack of LPs rested beside it, their colorful jackets depicting bygone musical eras. A worn armchair, upholstered in a mustard yellow fabric, sat opposite the record player, inviting relaxation. In the corner, a lava lamp bubbled silently, casting a mesmerizing red glow across the room.
Kiem reread the letter one last time, his father's words a comfort. He closed his eyes, picturing happy moments spent with his father in the farmhouse. A gentle breeze rustled through the window, carrying the sounds of nature.
Kiem settled into his father's chair, the worn leather a familiar embrace. Exhaustion from the day's discoveries washed over him. He allowed his thoughts to drift, memories and emotions swirling in a calming haze.
As the farmhouse settled into twilight, Kiem's eyelids fluttered closed. He drifted off to sleep, the letter tucked safely in his pocket, a promise of more to discover.
YOU ARE READING
Kiem's Unsolved Mysteries
FantasíaKiem sat in his dimly lit office, the afternoon sun slanting through the dusty blinds and casting long shadows across his cluttered desk. A faint but pleasant scent of petrichor, the earthy smell of rain after a dry spell, hung in the air, carrying...
