The silhouette of a man and a child through the curtains of a lit window revealed a scene quite ordinary in the city of Talewood. The man, Wilson, was in his sixties, and his old, gray hair covered his mouth, chin, and scalp. Lines produced by old age laced their way around his face, but his smile had a grace that made him seem much younger. The child, a small girl with plump cheeks and red hair, seemed to be talking with Wilson.
“Grandpa, can you tell me a story for bedtime?” She asked, covered by her blankets.
“Hmm… Do I have enough time?” He teased her.
“Oh, yes you do, Grandpa. Please say you do.”
“Well, maybe if you say ‘please,’ I'll think about it.”
“Haha! Okay, I'll tell you a story. I just hope I don't get in trouble with your mom for this.”
“Yay! And don't worry, I’ll tell Mommy that I forced you to!”
“Ahaha… Is that so?... Well, in any case, what kind of story would you like to hear?”
“I wanna hear a story about you, Grandpa! You always have such interesting stories to tell.”
“Me, huh? I do have a story that I've never told you, actually. I wanted to wait until you were older, but I guess I can tell you it now.”
“...” She listened intently. Wilson looked at her with amusement.
“Okay. Here it goes.” He said with a sigh, “This will be a long one, okay?”
Then, he leaned over and pulled back the curtains for his granddaughter to see.
“Do you see that windmill on the cliff way over there? It's hard to miss.” The girl looked at where he was pointing.
“Oh, that one? I see that from my school from time to time. Have you been there, Grandpa?”
“Yes. More than enough times, in fact. But it wasn't originally a windmill. They built that about thirty years ago. When I was a child, it used to be a house…