Chapter One: Anniversary
One by one, they were torn down.
Eight beautiful homes from another era—gone. Two were Tudor-style, with their gables and timber frames. One was a stately Colonial, its columned porch always immaculate. Another flaunted an elegant art deco façade. But at the end of Fallcourt Crescent stood the oldest of them all: a grand Victorian with turrets, dormers, and a full wrap-around porch that seemed to hum with secrets.
It may have been the oldest, but it was the best-kept—so pristine it looked like it had been built yesterday. Thank God it was loved. If it had been left to rot, it would have become the kind of haunted house that gives other haunted houses nightmares.
Yes, one by one, the families moved out—some passed on, some relocated, some sold outright. And one by one, the vultures descended. A development company had been circling Fallcourt Crescent for years, eager to replace charm with uniformity: saltbox fourplexes, slapped together with plastic siding and paper-thin walls. Bit by bit, they swallowed the street whole.
Dave remembered every house. Every porch swing and flowerbed, every name on every mailbox. He should—he’d walked this route for over forty years.
Dave was a postman. And like the homes he once delivered to, his time was nearly up. Three weeks from now, he’d make his final rounds—his last walk down this street turned memory lane.
Retirement couldn’t come fast enough. The years had worn him down: arthritic ankles, aching knees, and a hip replacement already booked. But that worry was for later.
Tonight was his anniversary.
He made Alice’s favorite: Beef Wellington, double-stuffed baked potato with bacon-wrapped asparagus, and a nice claret. The table was set with care. White and purple lilacs arranged in a short bouquet. Candles flickering gently. Two place settings—his with a folded napkin, and the other with her favorite photo propped upright in place of a plate. Alice had passed months ago. This was Dave’s first anniversary alone.
He ate in near silence. Music would have stirred too many feelings, so he left the TV on low—just enough to fill the air without breaking it. After the final bite, he toasted her. Then he washed the dishes, kissed the photo, and placed it back on the mantle.