Riley's cautious instincts kicked in as he stood, the air thick with unease. He approached the door, each step heavy with uncertainty, wondering who could be on the other side and what they wanted.
Riley exchanged a quick glance with Eleanor before he reluctantly opened the door. To his surprise, it was Old Mr. Hawthorne, his weathered face creased into a wide smile. In his hands, he held a vibrant bouquet of flowers, their colors almost too bright for the gray atmosphere surrounding the village, alongside a collection of ripe fruits that seemed to radiate an unnatural glow.
"Ah, there you are, my dear Eleanor!" Mr. Hawthorne exclaimed, his voice cheerful and oddly buoyant. "These are for you! My dear wife, Mrs. Hawthorne, specifically asked me to bring them to you." Eleanor's expression shifted from curiosity to concern as she accepted the gift. "Thank you, Mr. Hawthorne, but… is Mrs. Hawthorne not home?" she asked, trying to gauge his demeanor.
