The Screw Turn Mansion

It was the tiniest of episodes, but some felt I needed the country air. I arrived to a welcoming host who explained the layout of the estate as she showed me to my room, the one with the garden view.

Her grandson took my hand and dictated my week: running through the brook one day, rolling down the hill another. I was sad to say good-bye, but readied with enthusiasm to return to work.

“Thank you for your stay,” my host said.
“My pleasure,” I said. “Your grandson is wonderful.”
“I’m sorry?” she answered. “There are no children here.”