A few years ago I moved into an apartment that seemed perfect on paper: quiet street, big windows, cheap rent. But from the first night, I knew something was off. Nothing dramatic—no voices, no shadows—just this constant feeling that someone else was in the room. Not watching me, exactly… just present. Close enough that I kept looking over my shoulder when cooking or brushing my teeth. Then things escalated. Every morning when I woke up, the closet door was open. I assumed I was forgetting to close it, so I made a point of shutting it firmly. One night I even filmed myself closing it and locking the latch. The next morning: open again. Latch still locked. After that, things started disappearing—small things like my keys, hair ties, a notebook—only to reappear in strange places like the bathtub or inside a kitchen drawer I never used. The final straw was the night I woke up at 4 a.m. because someone whispered “Hey” right beside my ear. Like someone leaning down to wake you up gently. I moved out two weeks later. The landlord didn’t act surprised when I told him why. #DidThatHappen