Some people swore that the house was haunted. Ever since she had died, that kind of talk didn’t matter much to Bella. Anxious to find a place of her own, the little bungalow with the huge front porch looked perfect for her. She had already visited 3 other places – a loft downtown, a split level ranch and a duplex.

This place was the last one on the list. If it didn’t work out, she had no idea where she’d end up.   

She switched her suitcase from her right hand to her left before she started up the stairs.   When she reached the front door, she peered through the beveled glass window and saw two children curled up on a couch. She heard a woman’s voice over the sound of the television.

 “Frank, would ya get the kids and come to dinner. It’s ready now.” 

 The boy on the couch threw his head back and hollered, “Hey Ma, whatta we  havin?” 

 “Spaghetti and Meatballs.”

 Thank God, Bella thought. Italian. Without bothering to open the door, she   glided into the house.  

 Nothing was ever the same again after that.

PS: Submitted to the NPR 3 minute Fiction contest that ended in September. Writers were invited to send in original stories 600 words or less; the first and last lines of the story were furnished.