Mika Sørensen

1988. In the woods east of Dunmore, New Hampshire, something fell from the sky. No one saw it. No one heard it. The crickets stopped singing, and by morning, they had started again, and the town went on the way small towns go on — quietly, carefully, pretending that nothing has changed. Diane Hayward, teacher and newly divorced, moves into a small house on Birchwood Lane. She wants nothing but quiet. Her neighbor Gladys brings casseroles and theories. Her son Hal makes her laugh. The autumn burns in colors that have no name. Then there is the stranger. Tall, dark, still. He stands at the tree line. He barely speaks. And he looks at Diane as though he is learning her. Gladys keeps a notebook. The entries are getting longer. The stranger doesn't blink enough. The animals are leaving the woods. And Diane — against every instinct, against every warning — opens the door.