I reach around her and open the door. Is it conveniently left unlocked, or is it luck? Either way, we leave imitation at the threshold as we kick and smear dead snow off our shoes. The lights are all off, but the interior is tilted with dimly lit spaces from the streetlamps gawping in from the windows. I’m happy to show her the house because I hope it will thrill her. It’s the one I picked just for her. The foyer is hardwood, and just beyond a beige carpet, deep-pile. And from the front door we can see the dining room with its broad mission-style table and a fixture above it dripping with little ocular crystals which catch and reflect the streetlamp’s glow and cast a spectral and muzzy art on the pale walls. At this table is where we’ll have family dinners, one day, after tonight.
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Jason DeYoung lives in Atlanta, Georgia. His work has appeared or is forthcoming in numerous publications, including REAL: Regarding Arts & Letters, Corium, The Los Angeles Review, New Orleans Review, Monkeybicycle, Music & Literature, and Houghton Mifflin Harcourt’s Best American Mystery Stories 2012. He is a Senior Editor at Numéro Cinq Magazine. He can be found on the web here: jasondeyoung.com