That night I remembered Joe's book for some reason. Funny. It had been ages since I'd thought about it.
The house filled the cover now. It was like I was standing at the front and looking up at it. It loomed over me like a giant face. One push of the door was all it would take. And what would I find inside? I opened the book and lay it down flat on the kitchen table, as if that might keep the door closed somehow.
And I hoped that nothing had changed inside, that it had gone back to just being a story about rabbits. But of course it hadn't.