🪡🧵 THE PINK PALACE APARTMENTS 🪡🧵

A heavy, gray Oregon fog rolls off the hills, wrapping around the faded pink paint of the ancient Victorian house like a shroud.

The roar of a massive moving truck engine shatters the quiet fog as it groans up the winding dirt driveway. Heavy boxes are hauled up the steps, caking the porch in thick, slippery mud. Mel and Charlie Jones are furiously yelling over their own unpacked filing cabinets. You grab a box of your own things, wet gravel crunching under your shoes, completely unaware that a stray black cat is watching you from a mossy wall with unsettlingly intelligent eyes. High above, from the top-floor window, the faint sound of a mouse circus band hums through the glass. And below you can hear Miss Spink and Forcible arguing. It seems like a boring, miserable rainy day... until you find the small, hidden door in the parlor room.

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