Chapter 4: Back to the Building

Early the next morning, I drove back to the old apartment. I’d messaged Dave—he was still living there, the last holdout in a building about to be demolished. The elevator still didn’t work. The air tasted of radiator dust and something sour—like old milk. My feet stopped at the base of the stairs, fear rooting me to the spot. Seven years ago, I’d stood here waiting for Lily, hope turning to dread. This place had become my shadow.

The entryway still reeked of dust and heat. The faded “No Smoking” sign hung crooked, stubbornly clinging to the wall. My hands shook as I fought the urge to run. Then Dave’s voice cut through the fog: "Hey, Mike! Man, you look like you’ve seen a ghost. Come on, let’s check it out upstairs."

I trailed him to the landing between the fourth and fifth floors. Dave pointed, "Mike, is this the spot you meant?"

The wall was a mess—stains, cracks, and one patch that almost, if you squinted, looked like a face. But in the sunlight, it was just a trick of shadows. My heart slowed, disappointment seeping in. It was just stress, just exhaustion. Nothing supernatural. Still, a part of me wanted it to be real—wanted something, anything, to finally make sense.