The house on the hill

 

There is an old winding road, called Cherry Lane; it twists like a glorious snake, lined with the most picturesque houses along the narrow lane; cheek by jowl. One like a chocolate box and another something from Architectural Digest made entirely of containers lined up neatly and another beside down always past the rabbit hills is one that looks medieval.

And as the young man drives along the road he stops to wonder about that strange widow. 

As he had followed her here. She drove up the hill. The only hill anywhere around 

He looks now at google maps and tries to determine the property ….what does this mean ….and

he feels foolish now because he cannot get out of his head that silly song ….”on the street where you live….”

And now sits there in his car looking up at the hill where he had seen her disappear in her pale colored car