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The Apartment #107


Where had the fire... gone? Ryland frowned. Why was nothing burned? Was he himself the only one to experience this… this hallucination? Danes was a strange man, sitting there, motionless. Did he have any answers?
Ryland visibly jumped as, without warning, Danes leapt to his feet and ran to the window. He leaned against it, one hand shielding his eyes from the bright glare of winter sunshine, his head looking one way then another, up, then down, as if he was looking for something.
What was he doing?
What the hell was “if they exist at all” supposed to mean?

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