It could have been the change in the weather. Or it could have been something more than that. I looked up at the windows. Although it was still the middle of the day, the curtains were mostly pulled to. As though whoever was inside wanted to cut out the rest of the world altogether. To hide from it. I locked the car door and flipped the keys down and into my pocket. Then I walked towards the front door. I rang the bell. It sounded distant and hollow, as though it was ringing a hundred miles away. As I stood there the rain began to fall again: a slow, low drizzle that touched my face like damp, rotting lace. I leaned on the bell harder; it didn’t make any difference to the tone, but it did bring the Chinese houseboy to the door. He opened it as though he was opening Pandora’s Box and seemed disappointed to find that it was only me out there on the step … Set yourself up to find the world’s troubles and all you get is Mitchell.
