It was a delightful, white scratched off wood abandoned bungalow with flowers by smashed tiny window and roses growing up against the broken walls and round the that was half broken and wet fence. The door was smashed and open and without really thinking about it, he stepped inside, his heart thudding expectantly. The house had everything that you might need: a cosy bedroom room with a so TV and a picture what is lovely; a tiny kitchen with a painted cherry blossom tree on the cups and plates and a cooker with an mouldy orange on it; a table that was set for four with a broken teapot one the floor and a plate of mouldy noodles that were ready to throw in the bin.