Elvira closed the door behind her. She had no other choice. That buried house would be her refuge.
That night he slept soundly for the first time in years.
But she was not alone.
In the early hours of the morning, a noise woke her. Footsteps. Slow. Dragging.
He sat up suddenly.
“Is anyone there?” he asked, his voice trembling.
Silence.
He got up and walked around the house. Nothing. Only shadows.
He thought it had been a dream… until he saw something that wasn’t there before.
On the table, there was a cup.
And it was hot.
Elvira stepped back.
—No… I’m not alone here…
