The moment the door creaked open, both Micah and Clyde froze in place as though an invisible force had seized them, locking them in place.
The faint sound of the hinges echoed far louder than it should have, stretching unnaturally through the hallway. Neither of them stepped forward immediately. Neither of them spoke.
Inside, the apartment revealed itself slowly, piece by piece, like a memory that had been buried for far too long and was now being forced back into the light.
The furniture was different. Old, worn, and mismatched, but not the same as before.
