I’m getting ready to leave. TV off, ceiling fans off. Windows, closed. It’s quiet on the third floor. I turn off the lamp in my office, the last light on the third floor that was on.
I hear a door shut on the second floor. I thought I was alone in the house.
Whispers. Close. On the stairway. Halfway up. I freeze. The whispers continue. I imagine they’re whispering that I’m coming.
“Hello?” I say. It was instinctual. A bad line straight from of a horror movie.
“Just me,” my roommate calls from the second floor. The whispers stop. “I’m headed out.”