The house was dark, and filled only with silence. No spirit echoed through its halls, no memories drifted from room to room.

The young woman who chanced upon the house this night saw only the glimmering chances of her own hopes. She had passed by it many times before, but only now did it become a reality to her. She thought of the children that could enliven the recesses of its space, the lights and hangings which could bring color to its dark walls, of the history that it could one day possess, "if only..."

This thought she carefully, tidily folded into the back of her mind, laying it down next to many other such neatly preserved possibilities, thoughtfully marking it with its own unique color, scent, and texture. Each possibility was charmed, but only a handful were ever to be retrieved and put to use. For now it was time to return to the small rooms she already inhabited, those past futures which had come upon her unlooked for, almost unrecognized if not for the chances of necessity.