Alright… here’s a horror story that builds slow and hits at the end:
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I live alone.
At least… that’s what I thought.
Every night, before I sleep, I check my apartment.
Closet—empty.
Bathroom—nothing.
Front door—locked.
It’s a habit I picked up after moving in.
Something about this place always felt… off.
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It started small.
I’d wake up and things would be slightly moved.
A chair not exactly where I left it.
My keys on the other side of the table.
At first, I blamed myself.
“May