“On the tree over there!”
Violet pointed. “That one.”
“I don’t see a door…”
“It’s bright red. You can’t miss it.”
“I still don’t see anything.”
Violet let go of her dad’s hand and ran up to the tree. “Don’t run on people’s lawns,” her dad called. Violet bent down and touched the door gently with her fingertips. It felt like painted wood, and the brass handle was cool on her skin. She peered through the little window. Nothing but darkness inside. There was a little window off to the side and she looked through that too. Again, darkness.
“C’mon, Violet. Why do you keep touching and looking at the tree?”
“I’m seeing if someone is home.”
Her dad sighed. “Let’s go. We have to get you to bed. It’s a school night.”
After another touch of the door and peek in the window, Violet leapt across the lawn and held her dad’s hand. She looked back at the door over her shoulder as they walked away. “You’re sure you can’t see it?” She asked.
“I couldn’t see it,” said her dad, “But what I do see is that you have a very active imagination.” He gave her hand a loving squeeze.
“It’s not my imagination!”
“Okay, well, maybe we can go for another walk tomorrow night and see if it’s still there.”
“Yes! Can we?” Violet was breathless.
(To be continued?…)