In Chap­ter 243 of “All the Col­ors of the Dark,” Patch approach­es an aban­doned house, filled with an eerie sense of nos­tal­gia and con­tem­pla­tion. He waits for five min­utes, knocks repeat­ed­ly on the door, and ulti­mate­ly peers through a win­dow obscured by years of neglect and algae, reveal­ing a glimpse of the inte­ri­or. Inside, he observes bar­ren floors and a spa­cious recep­tion room adorned only by wild­flow­ers in emp­ty milk bot­tles, the sole indi­ca­tion of warmth amidst the cold­ness that the wood­en shut­ters and tall win­dows sug­gest.

Patch’s explo­ration extends as he catch­es sight of wall­pa­per that has been neglect­ed for so long that it has begun to yel­low in the sun­light. Tra­vers­ing through the life­less envi­ron­ment, he moves around sunken beds, devoid of both flow­ers and weeds, and cups his hands against the glass, notic­ing even fur­ther decayed rooms. Among these rooms is one that con­tains paint cans beside an old wood­en lad­der, empha­siz­ing the sense of aban­don­ment.

Out­side, he finds stone jar­dinieres, patch­es of pur­ple wild­flow­ers, and a small water fea­ture that has run dry, sym­bol­iz­ing the lack of care this place has endured. Although the grass has been mowed, the sheer expanse of the grounds over­whelms him. He spots two dis­tant barns and rolling hills that form a wide arc around the prop­er­ty, con­tribut­ing to the house­’s iso­la­tion.

After attempt­ing to access the back door and dis­cov­er­ing it locked, he peers through a cracked glass pane and glimpses a kitchen counter lined with jars and pots filled with home­made jams and pre­serves, along­side a stove—a sign that life once thrived here. Just as he pre­pares to cir­cle the house for anoth­er approach, he hears faint thun­der, draw­ing his atten­tion upward as the storm rolls in, dark­en­ing the atmos­phere and adding an ele­ment of fore­bod­ing to the scene.