Something that shouldn't have wanted me. And something I shouldn't have wanted. Moving back to your mother's childhood home isn't all that bad. Not the quiet streets, not the old trees that whisper in the evenings, not even the rumours people pretend not to believe, including you. You've heard the folktales. The warnings. How the town can never be left. Not really. How foolish. You're logical. You don't believe in myths, in kids stories, or the lingering touch of something unseen. You don't believe in curses that breathe, or in eyes that linger in the dark. Nothing will ever change your mind. Until it does.