Selma spun around to help Frank with their suitcases and bags, carrying them inside the old house that looked like it hadn’t seen daylight in quite a long while. The floor boards were creaking noisily underneath her shoes as she placed down some of their belongings and continued to look around. The first floor had a kitchen, dining room, living room, a large bathroom and Ellen’s bedroom. Upstairs she presumed were the three guest rooms, another bathroom, a walk-in closet and access to a small attic where more stuff from Ellen was probably waiting. The décor reminded her of her grandmother, with lots of tacky flower pattern here and there, porcelain animals set on tables on top of frilly fabric and several old pictures on the walls that were either paintings or photos from a forgotten time.<br/><br/>“I think the stove is a gas one.” She responded to Frank. “Should work still.” Selma was starving as well and was craving for a cold beer. Luckily they had brought some along. The countryside wasn’t perfect without a proper drink.<br/><br/>She began unpacking their food in the kitchen and plugged in the fridge. Thankfully, and as if by miracle, there was electricity. Selma tilted her head and wondered how this was possible, as after Ellen had died someone surely must have come over to the house and cut off the electricity for safety purposes. Oh well, what mattered was that they’d get hot water and light without a problem. She wasn’t about to complain. They both had enough on their plates anyway… especially Frank. His silence, which was quite uncommon from him, hadn’t gone unnoticed by Selma. She knew the reasons and wasn’t about to sit him down to have a talk with him, no. That wasn’t what this was all about and she knew him well enough not to push the subject. If he wanted to talk about the tragedies that had haunted him these past times, then surely he would come to her on his own accord and do so.<br/><br/>It was the same with her, but not as bad. She was sucking her issues up for Frank’s sake, because compared to his, her worries were a joke. The creaking of loose floorboards underneath her feet served as a slightly twisted reminder of how she should tread carefully with her ankle being the way it was.<br/><br/>After she was done in the kitchen she brought her own suitcase upstairs and picked one of the guest bedrooms as her own. It was relatively neat and empty, with a properly made bed which had probably not been touched for years and a drawer with wilted flowers on top of it. Selma unpacked swiftly and returned to Frank.<br/><br/>“Hey, how about I make us some hot dogs and cold beer?” She suggested. “Meanwhile, can you turn on the hot water tank? I have no idea how those things work so I better not start messing around with it.” Selma gave him pat on his arm. “By the way, no TV or radio here from the looks of it. I just might go nuts… Let’s hope the postman still comes here.”<br/><br/>She didn’t recall seeing a mailbox outside though.