Uncle Greg’s house was more than just a collection of bricks and mortar; it was like a living scrapbook full of memories. Every room seemed to echo with the sounds of laughter, heated discussions, and the many family gatherings that had taken place there over the years.
But despite all the memories that filled the house, the garage stood apart, a silent guardian with its secrets tightly locked away. Mindy often noticed her mother gazing wistfully at the garage, her eyes reflecting a blend of longing and sadness.