She swung her legs out of bed and padded to the living room. Moonlight poured through the window, silver and cold. And there—the crack.
One afternoon, she knelt before it. The gap was now wide enough to fit two fingers. She hesitated, then reached inside. crack in wall under window
By Thursday, it had forked. Two thin tendrils now crept toward the floor, one veering left, the other right, as if tracing the outline of something invisible. Ella pressed her palm flat against the wall. The plaster felt cool, but not damp. No draft. No smell of rot. Just… there. She swung her legs out of bed and padded to the living room