they’re there

For a while I lived above an old diner. It was built around 1920. This place had a life of it’s own, you could feel the past still alive inside. At night when the diner closed you could still sense someone was inside. The hallway to get to my door was long and narrow. Occasionally it would feel like someone walked by me as I unlocked my door, the air moved. At times you just knew someone was right in front of you, staring, ready to confront you. I always entered through the back of the building. Two flights of metal stairs. Going up, they watched. I was the new guy. The one that wasn’t excited about the diner atmosphere. The one you would only get a hello out of if you were lucky. They watched me coming up. They moved out into the hall, silent but present. One place I never went was down the front steps that lead out to the street. There was a heavy feeling to those steps. Something happened at the bottom, something bad and it was still there. This dark place never lit up no matter how bright the sun was or how much light would shine on it. I remember taking this photo the day I moved out. It was late at night, around 10:00 pm. The apartment was left just as I had found it except for a few bumps on the walls. Loading up the last bit of my belongings I looked up to the windows. They were watching, waiting. Someone new will come along, just like I did.

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