Emily’s pulse raced with excitement as she studied the mustard-colored house in front of her. A bitter wind blew fierce, taunting her, but she hardly noticed its presence. Today was the day she was going to step back in history, back to a time she only read about in novels. Her favorite house in the village was for sale, and the sign in front read, “Open House.”

It’s not that she was looking to purchase a home. As a sophomore in college, that would not come for quite some time. But this house. Oh, how she had longed to peek inside. Each time she passed by she was tempted to climb the six steps up to the porch and press her face against the window if only to catch a glimpse of what treasures awaited on the other side of history.

But she no longer had to wait. Holding onto the railing, she climbed the stairs, each step quickening her pulse further until she was almost giddy. Finally, she stood in front of the double brown doors, a stained glass window resting on top. She turned the round metal knob and pushed the door open, thrilling at the thought that she would take her first step into 1880, the year this historic home was built.

As she stepped over the threshold, she was greeted by a small foyer. The walls were painted a forest green, and the ceiling rose high above her head. To her left, a staircase angled its way up, turning twice before making its final ascent. Her eyes caught another stained glass window on the second landing, the sun hardly making a dent on this gloomy day. Before the window, two nature scenes in muted tones converged in the corner. Perhaps some...