In this short story, a young woman named Letttie returns to her childhood home and reckons with her troubled past.

How long exactly the house had been in the family was anyone's guess. It was a great mass of precarious skyward extensions, each made by different hands, and each the product of different eras of architecture. The ambition of the procession of Dinheimers responsible was unfortunately not matched by their skill, though their repeated engagements in brinkmanship with the force of gravity had not yet caused utter catastrophe. When Lettie’s father had resolved to leave his own mark on the ancient house, its state was that of a Jenga tower at the end of a game which, by the accounts of all but the players, ought to have ended many turns ago.
A house divided will stand just fine for as long as you let it. Maybe she'd tear it down, then.

Art by me.