Before closing, Maisie asked to visit once.

Adrian hesitated.

Her therapist supported it if Maisie wanted.

They walked through the garden.

The doghouse remained near the hedge.

Same dark-gray wood.

Same latch.

Maisie stopped twenty feet away.

Adrian said:

“We can leave.”

“No.”

She approached.

Touched the roof.

“Buddy slept here.”

“Yes.”

“It wasn't bad before.”

“No.”

That mattered.

Objects did not begin evil.

People gave moments meaning.

Maisie asked:

“Can we take the latch off?”

Adrian looked at her.

“Why?”

“So nobody can lock anything in there.”

He found a screwdriver.

Removed the metal latch.

Maisie held it.

Then handed it to him.

“Throw it away.”

He did.

The new homeowners later converted the doghouse into garden storage.

Without a latch.

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