The House That Could Breathe

At the edge of an old forest stood a House.
At first glance, it seemed quite ordinary — with a roof that leaned to one side, paint peeling off the shutters, and a porch that gave a sad little creak with every step.

But the House was alive. It breathed.
At night, its windows opened just a crack to let in the cool, fresh air, and the boards softly sighed, as if someone inside was turning over in sleep.

The House was waiting for someone.
It had been waiting so long that even the trees around it had grown used to its quiet sighs.