Nav menu icon open d9bfd3eed6a1143a20f92cd974dd379a5e414e241f3737702350d7b3dd81e69b
Header logo cab77647b37c95ab5496db835e85162aba4bedc6de5e3a0d39c96bd53525ad52
Profile menu icon open 0bd40fa08d2fc5c4d8445c6d1743d5f0ef62a7124ae672b58b61901962ca0b2e
Profile menu icon close 739055ce6fa14222dc974ba185dccde75b76943d430bff175242106dacff0b12
Dead in Bed | Part 14: Heavenly
Dib14 cover 501afff00aebefae3a2ed03893103f4b800361ed5e7dab8c5db143161700fbf2

As soon as I saw the cottage, I knew that it was perfect.

It had shingle siding and a little front porch with a pair of Adirondack chairs just waiting for someone to sit in them. A brick chimney perched on top of the roof. Two windows, flanking the front door, let in the warm morning sunlight.

There was even a key under the doormat. I couldn’t believe it. We wouldn’t even need to break the handle to get in.

I unlocked the door and stepped inside.

A double bed, neatly made, faced a small wood stove. There was a well-stocked kitchenette with a small dining table. The cottage must have once been a rental, I figured; the bed sheets and bathroom towels were clean, and there was a laminated note on the fridge about using the thermostat, where the nearest organic grocery store was, and other useless information.

I sat on one of the porch chairs and looked out across the vast LA valley. With no more cars on the roads or factories running, there wasn’t a single wisp of smog. The view from the cottage was so clear that it seemed like I could just reach out and grab the skyscrapers downtown or dip my fingers in the blue Pacific Ocean.

“This is it,” I said. “This is where we’ll live. It feels like it’s ours already.”