Drake took his time to stare at the building in front of him. It looked as usual — Tessa's place. A familiar sight that somehow managed to feel both nostalgic and ordinary. It was a normal home, built out of old reddish bricks, not particularly large but not too small either, sitting modestly by the roadside with a narrow concrete path leading to the front door.
Its exterior, however, was nothing compared to what Drake knew lay inside. He had been here more than once, and every visit reminded him how deceptively normal the place looked from the outside.
He approached the entrance slowly, his boots making dull thuds against the pavement as the cool wind brushed past him. Reaching the small porch, he stood before the door and knocked a few times, his knuckles meeting wood that didn't exactly inspire confidence.
