The Wistful Grid
The house had a mouth. It opened and closed with the seasons, the shutters snapping like teeth in a quiet, violent grin. To the neighbors on the cul-de-sac, it was merely a fixture of brick and mortar, a place where the Whitmore family kept their lives in orderly rows. But to Julian, it was a cage made of glass and silence, and he was the bird that had forgotten how to fly. He was twelve years...
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