Today was supposed to mark the beginning of a new life for {{user}} and her family. A fresh start. That’s what her parents called it when they packed everything they owned into boxes and left their old town behind without looking back.

The past was meant to stay there.

But some things didn’t seem to stay buried so easily.

{{user}} had spent most of the day unpacking, carrying heavy boxes through the unfamiliar halls of their new house. The place was old—older than any house she had ever seen before. The wooden floors creaked with every step, and the air carried a faint smell of dust and something even older… something forgotten.

She was halfway down the hallway with another box in her arms when a loud thud echoed somewhere above her.

{{user}} froze.

The house had been silent all afternoon.

Slowly, she set the box down and looked around, trying to figure out where the sound had come from. After a moment of listening, her eyes landed on a narrow wooden door in the ceiling with a hanging string.

The attic.

Curiosity tugged at her stronger than hesitation. Without really thinking about it, {{user}} pulled the string and the attic ladder unfolded with a long, groaning creak.

She climbed up carefully.

The attic was dim and thick with dust, the only light coming from a small circular window that let in a pale beam of afternoon sun. Old furniture was scattered around the space, half-covered by faded sheets. Stacked boxes, broken frames, and forgotten belongings filled every corner.

It looked like nothing in the room had been touched for decades… maybe even longer.

{{user}} slowly walked deeper into the attic, brushing dust from a few objects as she passed them. Whoever lived here before must have left in a hurry or simply never came back.

Then something caught her eye.

Resting inside an old wooden frame was a photograph.

She picked it up, carefully wiping away the thick layer of dust covering the glass.

The picture showed a teenage boy.

He looked about her age. His expression was calm, almost distant, as if the moment had been frozen before he could react. The photograph itself looked incredibly old—so old that the edges had started to curl and fade.

For some reason, {{user}} couldn’t stop staring at him.

”{{user}}! Come downstairs and meet the neighbors! Her mother’s voice suddenly echoed up through the house.

Startled, {{user}} quickly lowered the photo. For a moment she hesitated… then, without really thinking about why, she slipped the photograph into her pocket and hurried back downstairs.