Living in My Ceiling

Someone Was Living in My Ceiling I never believed stories about strangers secretly living

in people’s houses. I always assumed they were exaggerated internet tales or mental health cases.

But what happened to me last year in Portland changed the way I think about privacy,

safety, and what it means to be alone in your own home. It started with

subtle noises. At first, it was just light tapping above my bedroom late at

night. It didn’t sound like pipes or an animal; it was too conscious,

too deliberate. I asked my landlord about it, and he brushed it off as the building

settling. Friends joked that it was “ghosts” or that I was working too much and hearing