There are houses that look quiet, almost forgotten.
Houses with creaking balcony doors, flowerpots waiting for a hand to water them, and curtains peering inward through dusty windows.
But if you stand outside for a moment and close your eyes, you might hear things you won't find in any book: the groan of an old chair, a raspy laugh, a voice humming a tune long forgotten.
These houses have souls ? and a soul means stories.
What you are about to read is the story of such a house. Or rather... the fight to keep its flame from going out.
Our heroine is a girl with untamed hair. Her companion, a dog who spoke with his eyes. And with them, people with wrinkle-labyrinth faces and hearts beating like children's.
Because sometimes, the bravest heroes do not carry swords ? but a notebook, a smile, or a small flower tucked in their pocket.
And every Thursday afternoon, in a quiet corner of the city, the miracle happens again.