Free Won't Let Go by Avery Olive

believe me?”
    He shakes his head. “It’s spring break, you just moved here. I’m sure there must be better things to do than research some house you live in.”
    “Well, since I don’t know anybody, yeah, it sounds like the perfect thing to do.”
    I take a step towards the gun-metal gray cabinets, and my fingertips graze the small metal plaques on each one. I yank open a drawer; inside are thick books, bindings printed with more dates.
    “So what house do you live in again?”
    I sigh, pulling out one of the heavy books. I press it against my chest and walk the few feet to a desk. Dawsyn quickly follows, taking a seat right across from me.
    “Addam’s Family House on Elm Street,” I reply. I crack the book open. It's dated five years ago. I leaf through the pages of newsprint, one by one. The mass of the book makes it hard to turn the pages without them threatening to crinkle, but I continue, searching the headlines of every article on the front and back of the pages.
    “Sure, I know the place. I’m surprised they haven’t bulldozed it to the ground. I can’t believe they let someone move in there.”
    I have to chuckle, it’s exactly what I thought when I first saw it. “So, what can you tell me?” Maybe having Dawsyn around won’t be a colossal waste of time, maybe he can tell me something right now, instead of me having to look through countless pages of newspapers.
    “Not much. They gave out the best Halloween candy.”
    Scratch that. Having Dawsyn around is going to be a colossal waste of time. “Halloween candy?” I roll my eyes.
    “Yeah, the best. They gave out full size candy bars, if you were brave enough to walk up the steps and ring the doorbell that is. That house has always been nothing but spooky.”
    As I flip the pages faster, forcing myself to read at hyper speed, I wonder why no one in this town seems to know anything about the house. A few years back isn’t that long ago. Anything that would hit the headlines, I’m sure would have this town remembering. News, I’m thinking, is all anyone has to talk about. But then again, I could be wrong. In L.A. yesterday’s news was just that—yesterday's.
    Of course we remember the big stuff. The important stuff. But if it doesn’t make front page it gets forgotten before the ink is dry, or the pages have been recycled.
    When I’ve turned the last page, I close the cover with a thud. Dust seeps out creating a plume of allergens. I wave my hand in the air, forcing the particles away from my face and nose, but no dice. Before I know it, they’ve penetrated my barriers and a sneeze tickles my nose. I try to force it back, to no avail. Suddenly, in quick succession, three sneezes shove their way out.
    “Gesundheit times three,” Dawsyn says, adding, “That was quite a show. I thought you were going to fall over in your chair.”
    “Thanks.” I push my chair back, grab the offending book and walk back to the cabinets.
    “You really are desperate to find something, aren’t you?”
    Dawsyn is standing right next to me. The warmth of his breath still lingers on my skin. I bite my lower lip and nod. He nudges me aside and yanks open a drawer, one from three years ago.
    “I’m not sure if this is what you’re looking for, and I can’t tell you anything besides what’s here, but it might help.” Dawsyn pulls a book from the cabinet. He holds it out, and we exchange the books. He puts the one I had back into its drawer while I carry the other one to the table.
    When Dawsyn takes his seat, I mumble, “Thanks,” even though I’m not sure yet what I’m thanking him for.
    I lift open the cover, this time carefully setting it down flush with the table. Another sneezing fit is so not an option.
    “We could grab coffee? That might be fun. I’m off now anyways.”
    I open my mouth to respond, only instead of speaking, I let my jaw go slack. A headline pops off the page in bold black type. From my peripheral I see Dawsyn go to say something