The first night in their new home, Mrs. Barlow found her tea towels folded into little origami crows. Charming, she thought. The second night, the crows had migrated to the refrigerator, and one had been dipped in something that looked disconcertingly like rust. “Art project,” Mr. Barlow said, yawning.
“They always want something simple,” Frank whispered. He pointed to the pantry, which had been a broom closet an hour ago. “See? The house is greedy. It wants a better kitchen.” smurl hauntings
Frank nodded, picked up the red yarn, and tied it in a loose knot around the faucet. The house groaned—a deep, pleased sound like a settling beam. The extra step vanished. The tap ran clear, minty water. The origami crows turned back into tea towels, slightly damp. The first night in their new home, Mrs