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came out of my amazement in time to see the little red sachet hanging over the door.
    “What’s that?” I asked, interrupting something he was saying.
    “What?” He looked to where I was pointing before opening the door. “Oh that. Just something I got from someone. It’s kind of a protection thing.”
    It was similar to something Rene might do, but there was no way he was like us. You could tell with all people, and he definitely didn’t give off any of that feeling.
    I passed through the doorway into the house, finding myself in between the living room and the kitchen. The setup was a little like Rene’s home, though it seemed so much bigger. It looked like Stranger had put some time into making it his own though. There were paintings on the walls, some framed, some not, and a few miscellaneous items that made me wonder about him; a bundle of dried flowers hung from one corner at the ceiling. All the furniture looked antique, like the paisley-patterned couch and the fraying tassels on the curtains.
    “Did you furnish it all?” I asked as I drifted into the living room.
    “Hell no,” Stranger replied. “All of this was my great uncle’s. I’m still filling it up with some of my stuff; make it feel more homey.”
    I looked at the flimsy curtains and the pressed flower teacups in a nearby cabinet. If this was the only room I’d seen so far, I was betting the others were just as great. There was a kind of faded beauty to it all, and it already felt pretty homey to me.
    “You’re really lucky, you know,” I commented, looking up at him.
    “That’s what everyone tells me,” he replied as he went to the kitchen. “Want some tea? It’s iced.”
    “Sure,” I replied, drifting to the cabinet of teacups and china. There was a glass tray with butterflies at the bottom and some silver sugar tongs layered with dust. I wondered if he ever planned on using any of it.
    He returned with two glasses full of red tea and ice. I thanked him as I took one and sipped. It reminded me of summer and the hot, damp days in July.
    “I’m addicted to this stuff,” he said as he flopped onto the couch. “I think that’s one of the perks of settling down: being able to make sun tea whenever I want.”
    “Settling down?” I repeated, sitting in a small armchair beside the couch.
    “Yeah, I’m used to traveling a lot. Sort of just living out of my car, stopping to live with people every now and then.”
    “Sounds like a fun time,” I said, imagining him in a car, window down, one arm dangling out.
    He shrugged. “Yeah, being a drifter’s all right. I just need to get used to this.” He gestured to the entire room before downing the last of his tea.
    “Do you think you’ll miss it? Drifting?” I asked.
    He shrugged smoothly, putting his glass on the coffee table. “Probably. I already feel restless sometimes. But would you have passed up this place?”
    “No way,” I replied, “I’d just feel sort of lonely out here, especially since the house is so big.”
    “I’m trying to get to know people,” he said. He stood and grinned at me, cocking his head towards the stairs. “Come on, I’ll show you the best part.”
    I followed him up the creaking stairs to the second floor where he walked past the other doors in the hall. I glanced in as I walked by, getting glimpses of an empty room, a vacant bedroom, Stranger’s room and a small sort of library. But he breezed by it all, instead stopping at the end of the hall where there was a window etched with frosted glass.
    “Looks like a normal window, right?” Stranger said, touching the vine design on the glass.
    “Right,” I replied, wondering what he was getting at. He smiled and bent down, tracing his fingers along the wall below the window. Giving it a gentle push, two steps popped out, and he lowered them to the floor. He carefully tested the first step before looking at me. He didn’t say anything, but pushed the window open, letting in a cool