Professional Book Formatting in One Click

The old house stood at the edge of the village, its windows dark against the evening sky. Margaret pulled her coat tighter as she approached the iron gate, its hinges protesting with a shrill cry that echoed across the empty lane.

Inside, the hallway stretched before her like a throat, narrow and dark. The floorboards groaned beneath her careful steps, each sound magnified in the silence. She could smell dust and old wood, and something else — something faintly sweet, like dried lavender left too long in a drawer.

The morning arrived without ceremony. Grey light crept through the curtains and fell across the unmade bed. Margaret sat at the kitchen table, her hands wrapped around a cup of tea that had long since gone cold.