She never found out who the previous tenant was. But on the 23rd of every month, she leaves a black rose on the windowsill. And every time, by morning, the petals have turned to dust, and the apartment feels one degree warmer.

A staircase coiled upward, lit by candles in black holders. At the top, a woman waited. She was tall, sharp-shouldered, dressed in a velvet dress that swallowed the light. Her name was never given, but her username was .

“23 09 21 – Loft available. Original exposed brick. No security deposit. Just vibes. DM for key.”

It’s the best home she’s ever had.