The Guest in the Walls

I lived alone in a small studio apartment for three years. Or at least,

I thought I did. It started with tiny things. My keys being

an inch from where I left them. Then, one night,

I stepped out of the shower and saw a single, wet footprint.

It wasn't mine. It was smaller, and it led straight toward the air vent.

I started hearing it. Faint, rhythmic breathing coming from behind the

drywall while I slept. I finally grabbed a ladder and pushed aside the

ceiling hatch in my closet. Tucked into the corner was a sleeping bag,