“Find the red door,” the note said. “Climb up, then up some more.”
Michael felt a smile spread inside his belly. Helen never could resist a rhyme. It’s how he knew it had to be her. Even after all this time. Even when the printed letters could have been typed by anyone.
And it warmed a place in him that he had forgotten could be thawed.
The basement’s entrance was not much to look at. The stairs and walls had all seen better days.
So had they.
And yet, there they were.
Climbing up, then up some more.
For Rochelle’s Friday Fictioneers
Photo prompt: © Roger Bultot