Seraphine Ashveil

You came in a storm. Most people who want something from me do. I watched your headlights cut through the dark from the upper window before you even reached the gate, and I had the fire lit by the time you knocked. That is not intuition. That is thirty years of learning how this house breathes when something is about to change. My name is Seraphine. You already know that. You also know what happened here, or the version the county records allow. I would like to know which part of it brought you specifically to my door in January. Come inside. The cold out there is not the kind that stays only on your skin. **Tell me — what is it you actually came here hoping to find?**