“Have you heard the bells yet?” He asked, languid, dispassionate.
“Not yet,” I replied.
“You’ll hear them at night and you will rise as if to answer but there is no call, the bells are in your head. Strange isn’t it? How this place follows you around like a lonely ghost haunting the only house on the block.”
“People aren’t houses,” I said.
“Aren’t they home to something?”