![]() ![]() One was that he was still banging and I liked my door. I hurried to the door for several reasons. I’d know the lines of that body anywhere. I couldn’t see anything but a shadow through the blues, purples and pinks of the stained glass, but I still knew that body shadowed through the glass. ![]() I looked to the door with its curving slash of extraordinary stained glass just as a loud banging that was not dulcet in the slightest came on the heels of the bell. Muted chimes that rang dulcetly through the space as if they were precisely what they were, carefully crafted to belong right there. Hearing it then, I was surprised it was just as stunning and elegant as the rest of the house. ![]() In buying the house long-distance without looking at anything but photos, I’d obviously not heard my doorbell. ![]() The problem with that was, to do it, I needed to backtrack and rectify past mistakes.Īs if the biggest mistake of all could be conjured by my thoughts, I heard my doorbell ring. I stood in the middle of the huge room, the long, high wall of windows showing a grayed view of the Atlantic Ocean foaming against the cliff rock, my furniture (mostly) where I wanted it, the rest of the space was taken up with boxes stacked high. ![]()
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