The second house on the left. If the door is blue, you're welcome. Red, you've come too early. Green, too late.The meaningless chant comes to me whole. I can't remember where I've heard it, but I also can't shake the certainty it's right. No idea what it's right about, but there's truth to it.During school the strange incantation echoes in my mind, pushing out dates during history and shapes during geometry."It's nonsense," I tell myself. But I still stop to watch the blue paint dry on my way home. I whisper to the empty yard of the blue-door house, "Welcome for what?"I don't expect an answer,