The front door was unlocked, which surprised June, but she was grateful that she wouldn’t have to leave Vernon on the porch as she broke in. Inside was a set of stairs to the left, a doorway to what was probably the dining room, and a kind of sitting room to the right. The dimming light let her see a sofa, and she helped a groaning and limping Vernon to it.
The air inside possessed a stillness of a house that has been closed a long time. Not stale exactly. Cool and dry and undisturbed, carrying the smell of old wood, varnish, and dust and something faintly floral.
She eased him down onto the couch and helped him recline in a comfortable position. Even though they moved slowly to minimize his pain, fine dust still left the cushions and filmed the room.
It hung in the low light coming through the two windows on the west side, turning the light into visible shafts that lay across the floorboards at a steep evening angle.
The sofa was shorter than Vernon was long, and the hard armrest made it…
