“It has good bones.” That phrase stuck in Xandra’s head, rolling around in the corners with the cobwebs. Looking up at the small house sitting back from the road, with it’s trees covering the front windows and the 1-car garage’s roof pealing up, she wondered how far down she’d have to dig before she got to these bones. The bricks were good, red and grey interspersed with ivy growing up the side. The railing that lead to the tiny alcove leaned to the left and the porch itself wouldn’t save anyone from the rain. The walk was cracked, tiny weeds sprouting out of the concrete like yellowed zits. And speaking of weeds, Xandra took in the knee-high grass covering the entire 2-acre property. I should just buy a goat.
Walking towards the front door, Xandra climbed the three steps to the front door, hoping that the lock wasn’t rusted or the wooden frame swollen, making it harder to gain entry. Setting her travel bag down, she dug out the ancient-looking key from her pocket. Note to self, get a locksmith. Sliding the key into the lock, she shoved her weight against the door. Though her build was slight and lean, she did keep in shape, but no amount of slamming her shoulder into the door would make it move.
Xandra sighed. Good bones, my ass.