I inherited my grandfather's legacy: an old house with an attic hanging upside down from the ceiling.
At the end of the will was a scrawled warning: "Make sure you count the steps, my child. Make sure you count them."
But the number of steps changes every day - 98, 99, 100, 102... Except 101.
When my grandfather's voice came from deep in the attic, I realized that his long-dead body was waiting for me at the end of the steps.
