Hi. I know I’m just a house, but I have to say it—this silence is starting to get to me. I used to be full of life, laughter, and the smell of coffee brewing in the mornings. Now? It’s just me and my memories echoing off the walls. I’m not trying to be dramatic, but I’ve got so much to offer and no one to share it with. I’m perched in tree-lined Jefferson Park—half a block from the park itself—and I’ve been watching the world go by, wondering when someone will slow down and really see me. I’ve got over 2,000 square feet of flexible space, which I used to fill with everything from lazy Sundays to dinner parties that went a little too late. My open-concept main level beams with natural light, wide plank hardwoods, and high ceilings. My kitchen? Granite countertops, stainless steel appliances, storage galore, and a sunlit little nook I used to watch couples make breakfast in. There’s even a breakfast bar and room for a full-size dining table—I miss the sound of wine glasses clinking. Out back, my fenced patio is waiting—furniture, umbrella, fire pit, all here for you to make your own. Upstairs, my dreamy primary suite fits a king-sized bed with a spa-like 5-piece bath and a walk-in closet that used to be full of personality. There’s another bright bedroom with its own en-suite, perfect for guests or roommates. Downstairs, my finished garden-level basement still smells faintly of laundry soap and movie nights. There’s a third bedroom, another beautiful bathroom with a steam shower, and a flex space that’s been everything from a yoga studio to a creative cave. I don’t judge. And let’s not forget—2-car garage, Walk Score of 87. Downtown, light rail, LoHi, craft breweries, coffee spots—they’re all right here. I’m in the heart of everything, but lately? My heart’s been a little empty. So if you’re looking for more than just four walls—if you want a place with soul, space, and stories waiting to be written—I’m here. Lights on. Door open. Waiting for you to come home.