text: [Themes: Horror, Lovecraftian, child abuse, female protagonist, research, body horror, rape references, self-mutilation]
  
  > Go downwards
  Carefully, you descend.
  
  > stand on can
  You clamber onto the wobbling garbage can, precariously balanced. You can just reach the lower edge of the window from here.
  
  > open the window
  You open the transom window.
  
  > Go inside
  (closing the umbrella first)
  It's a tight squeeze, but you just manage to wriggle through, dropping quietly to the floor inside.
  
  Peering through the murk, you can make out the blocky outlines of filing cabinets lining the walls and a doorway to the west. A window high up on the south wall lets in a very faint illumination.
  
  > look at the cabinets
  There must be hundreds of files here, too many to browse through. You'll have to look up something specific if you want to find anything.
  
  > look up yourself in the cabinets
  (in the filing cabinets)
  You don't find anything filed under that heading.
  
  You can hear a fly buzzing around, hovering over the back of your neck.
  
  > About yourself
  You look good, considering. A bit rattled by recent events, perhaps, but well-poised and collected, all the same.
  
  > look at the ring
  Staring at your wedding ring like that tends to make you sentimental.
  
  > look at the fly
  You can't see where the fly is. You're not even sure where the buzzing is coming from.
  
  > go west
  Pallid gray light trickles in through the drawn blinds. The office is deserted, papers still scattered across the top of the desk. The front door lies west, and the file room lies east.
  
  Sitting on the corner of the paper-strewn desk are a telephone and an answering machine.
  
  Someone seems to have left a cup of coffee sitting out, half-finished and cold.
  
  > look at the machine
  A simple answering machine, with a small display indicating messages received, a button labeled "PLAY", and a button labeled "DELETE".
  
  > examine display
  The display indicates there is one message on the machine, left (oddly enough) at 4:19 this morning. The display also shows that the message has already been checked.
  
  > examine the coffee
  Muddy-looking and unappetizing. Who knows how long it's been sitting out?
  
  > examine the drawer
  You can't see inside, since the drawer is closed.
  
  You can hear a fly buzzing around, right around your head.
  
  > open the drawer
  It seems to be locked.
  
  > Inventory
  You are wearing your wedding ring, your trenchcoat and your clothes; in addition, you have in your hand your umbrella.
  
  The pockets of your trenchcoat are empty.
  
  > Murder fly
  You can't see where the fly is. You're not even sure where the buzzing is coming from.
  
  > look at the ring
  Staring at your wedding ring like that tends to make you sentimental.
  
  > remove the ring
  You slip the plain gold band from your finger. Usually you feel almost naked without your ring on, although sometimes you do find yourself taking it off briefly, just to read the inscription along the inside.
  
  > read the ring
  Engraved along the inside are Michael's and your initials, along with your wedding date -- June 28th.
  
  > wear the ring
  The gold band slides onto your finger with a comforting snugness.
  
  > Go east
  Peering through the murk, you can make out the blocky outlines of filing cabinets lining the walls and a doorway to the west. A window high up on the south wall lets in a very faint illumination.
  
  > look up Verlac in the cabinets
  (in the filing cabinets)
  Strange; the file on the Verlac property has been cleaned out. Title, deed, all the papers, all of it gone. There is, however, a set of keys tucked down in the hanging folder. You quickly pocket them.
  
  > look at the keys
  It's just an ordinary-looking keyring. There are two keys (a key to the house and a key to the cellar) on it.
  
  > go west
  Pallid gray light trickles in through the drawn blinds. The office is deserted, papers still scattered across the top of the desk. The front door lies west, and the file room lies east.
  
  Sitting on the corner of the paper-strewn desk are a telephone and an answering machine.
  
  Someone seems to have left a cup of coffee sitting out, half-finished and cold.
  
  > move the papers
  Sifting through the paperwork, you find nothing that catches your attention.
  
  You can hear a fly buzzing around, right around your head.
  
  > look at the blinds
  The blinds are drawn across the windows, letting in a thin trickle of light. They are coated with a thin film of dust.
  
  > examine the front door
  You can make out the words "tsruhkcarB & nosneB" stenciled across the glass. There is a latch on this side which can be turned to lock or unlock the door.
  
  > Search pockets
  The trenchcoat is empty.
  
  > Go east
  Peering through the murk, you can make out the blocky outlines of filing cabinets lining the walls and a doorway to the west. A window high up on the south wall lets in a very faint illumination.
  
  > look up Benson in the cabinets
  (in the filing cabinets)
  You don't find anything filed under that heading.
  
  > look up Michael in the cabinets
  (in the filing cabinets)
  As you search in vain for some mention of your husband's name, it dawns on you that the property is most likely listed under the family's original, ancestral name.
  
  > unlock door
  You unlock the office door.
  
  > Go west
  (opening the real estate office door first)
  The rain is still coming down, so you open your umbrella.
  
  A grim little cul-de-sac, tucked away in a corner of the claustrophobic tangle of narrow, twisting avenues that largely constitute the older portion of Anchorhead. Like most of the streets in this city, it is ancient, shadowy, and leads essentially nowhere. The lane ends here at the real estate agent's office, which lies to the east, and winds its way back toward the center of town to the west. A narrow, garbage-choked alley opens to the southeast.
  
  The office door is open.
  
  > close the door
  You close the real estate office door.
  
  > open the umbrella
  That's already open.
  
  > Go west
  As the lane winds along from east to west, it narrows until the steep, jagged rooftops on either side of the street practically touch each other. To the south, a side street leads across Whateley Bridge toward the center of town, and a twisting lane leads up a hill to the northwest. A short flight of steps to the north leads down to the local watering hole.
  
  > Go northwest
  The lane narrows here to little more than a badly cobbled sidewalk as it wends its way up through a series of tortuous bends and switchbacks. In some places, the street is so steep that steps have been cut into it, worn down over the years and slick with moss. Your progress is blocked at the top of the street by a blank brick wall.
  
  > examine the brick wall
  It's just an ordinary-looking brick wall.
  
  > climb the wall
  The wall is featureless and very high; there's no way over it.
  
  > go southeast
  You take a few tentative steps back down the lane, but it seems to lead only to a short switchback, bringing you right back to the brick wall. You're not entirely sure now, which direction leads back to the narrow street.
  
  > listen
  At the very edge of your hearing you can just make out the sound of someone playing a violin -- a plaintive, haunting melody.
  
  > Yell
  Come now; you're not that frightened.