My manager, apathetic to my concerns, brushed aside any mention of my family’s estate.
The estate lawyer was no help either, always vague and dismissive about the house’s fate.
The decorations inside the house were either a quiet defiance or an invitation.
An invitation to what, I had no idea.
I felt the pressure rising, like a pot about to boil over.
I knew I had to face it, but the fear of reopening that door, both literally and figuratively, held me back.
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