Three Baby Cribs and a Missing Set of Car Keys
“There are pipe wrenches, copper cutters, and three boxes of brass fittings,” Shaun said, his voice reassuring. “This is better than what I have in my truck.”
We walked back to the front porch of the house, my mother holding the babies while I found the key on my personal ring. The lock was stiff from disuse, requiring a hard twist before the bolt slid back with a heavy thud.
The front door swung open, releasing a cool, musty draft that smelled of old carpets and dry plaster. The damp smell of the basement was present here too, rising through the floorboards from the cellar below.
Shaun stepped inside first, navigating the dark hallway to find the electrical panel behind the pantry door. He flipped the main breaker, and the sudden hum of the refrigerator motor started up in the kitchen.
“We have power,” Shaun called out from the hallway.
I walked into the kitchen and turned the brass handle of the sink faucet. A loud sputtering noise echoed through the pipes before a stream of rust-colored water coughed into the basin, slowly turning clear as it ran.
