Chapter 2

Moving was a non-event. I didn't have much stuff to begin with. One suitcase and one woven bag. Two trips and I was done.

I dumped my things in the living room and did a walkthrough first.

About nine hundred fifty square feet, two bedrooms, one living room.

The master had a balcony, the second bedroom faced north. The kitchen and bathroom were both pretty clean.

The last tenants had left in such a hurry they hadn't packed up.

Two pairs of slippers still sat by the door, one men's size ten, one women's size seven. Placed side by side. I kicked them aside.

I rummaged through my bag and started pulling out my stuff.

Toothbrush, towel, bedsheets, pillowcase, charger, and electric pot. A case of instant noodles, half a bag of rice, soy sauce, and vinegar. The desk lamp I used for grad school applications.

My outstanding graduation project certificate from college. A few fashion design books, my sketchbook, pencils, and erasers.

I flipped open the sketchbook. It held a few drawings I had done last year.

Back before I graduated, I thought I was some kind of chosen one. I figured my designs were destined for Fashion Week.

My advisor praised me back then. She said I had a real spark, real vision. She told me to keep at it and I would make it someday.

I had no idea where that someday was.

All I knew was that I had sent out resumes for three months. Some were marked as read with no reply. Some said there were no relevant openings. Some interviewed me and said to wait for a callback. Then nothing.

A man's gotta eat.

So here I was. Standing in a haunted apartment, ready to room with whatever this thing was.

Night fell.

I made a cup of instant noodles and sat in the bay window to eat.

Downstairs in the complex garden, a few older ladies were doing their line dancing. The music drifted up, some thumping pop remix.

Further out was the main road. Headlights blurred into a flowing river of light, bright enough to sting the eyes.

I finished eating, washed my bowl, brushed my teeth, and changed into my sleep clothes. Then I lay down on the bed in the master bedroom. Lights off.

The darkness rushed in, thicker than the black in that partition room. That room had no window, but light from my neighbor's monitor always seeped under the door crack and stayed on all night.

This place was truly dark. I pulled the curtains and couldn't see my own hand.

I lay there for a while and couldn't fall asleep. Not from fear. I just wasn't used to it.

It was too quiet. So quiet I could hear my own heartbeat. Thump, thump, thump.

Then I heard another sound. Breathing.

Very soft, very shallow, right next to me.

I didn't move. I didn't open my eyes.

The breathing continued, unhurried and steady. It sounded like someone standing by the bed, looking down at me.

I rolled over and sat up. I spoke to the darkness. "Alright, cut the act. I know you're there."

The breathing stopped. Silence swallowed the room.

"I don't care who you are," I said to the empty air. "From now on, this is my home. I rented it. I paid for it. I live here.

"If you want to stay too, fine. But knock off the creepy stuff. Don't scare me. Don't touch my stuff. We coexist peacefully.

"If you have a real problem with that, take it up with the landlord yourself. Tell him to take the place back."

I lay back down and pulled up the blanket.

"And another thing," I added. "My name is Melanie Flores. Got it?"

The breathing started again, from the exact same spot, with the exact same rhythm.

I couldn't explain why, but I got the feeling that breathing was laced with a hint of amusement.

I closed my eyes and fell asleep.

I woke up after I don't know how long. It was an old habit of mine.

Every night around three in the morning, I had to wake up. My bladder would be screaming, forcing a trip to the bathroom.

Back in college, my roommate said I had weak kidneys. I told him his kidneys were weak, and his whole family's kidneys were weak. I called it a precision internal clock.

I sat up with my eyes still shut and felt around the floor for my slippers. My left foot slid in with no problem.

My right foot kept groping around and found nothing.

I opened my eyes and looked down. Only one slipper sat on the floor beside the bed.

I froze for a second and rubbed my eyes. Nope, just the one. The other one was gone.

I switched on the bedside lamp. The light stung my eyes.

The master bedroom wasn't big. Everything was in plain view. The bed, the wardrobe, the nightstand, my jacket thrown over the chair. The floor was spotless and there was definitely only one shoe.

I got up and hopped on one foot to the door.