Late Enough

The first thing I noticed was the message on my phone. It wasn’t new, and it wasn’t old. It just sat there, already open,

like I’d been reading it for a while and forgotten. It said:

You should have left when the light was still on.

I didn’t remember a light being on.

You’re awake.

''Mara was standing by the doorway to the bedroom. She hadn’t moved since I looked up,''

like she’d been waiting for me to notice her.

What time is it?

Late.

Late like how?

Late enough.

That answer made my chest feel tight. I checked my phone again. No time. No signal.

Just the same message, unchanged.

Did you send this?

No.

She didn’t sound confused. Just certain.

The apartment felt wrong in a way I couldn’t explain. Not quiet. Not dark. Just… paused. Like everything was

waiting for something else to happen before it continued.

ELI I sat up. The floor was cold, colder than it should have been.

Why is the hallway light off?

Because it turned itself off.

ELI That didn’t help.

I stood and walked toward the kitchen. The hallway stretched slightly as I moved, not enough to notice unless I

was already paying attention, which I was.

The clock above the stove said 1:39. I watched it for a full minute.

It didn’t change.

Has it been like this long?

Since you stopped checking.

I didn’t remember stopping. ELI I heard the sound then. A door closing somewhere deeper in the apartment.

Slow. Careful. Like whoever closed it didn’t want to be heard.

Mara, did you hear that?

Yes.

Who was it?

Someone who thinks they’re alone.

The words sat between us. Heavy.

We don’t have anyone else here.

We didn’t before.

I went to the front door. The handle turned smoothly in my hand. The door didn’t move. I leaned into it harder

than I meant to, my shoulder pressing against the wood.

It’s not locked.

It won’t be.

I tried the chain. It wasn’t there.

Mara, why is the chain gone?

You took it off.

When?

The last time you tried to leave.

I opened my mouth to argue, then realized I didn’t know what I was arguing against.

The sound came again. Footsteps this time. Inside the walls. Not above us. Not below. Moving through the space

like the apartment had learned how to walk.

They’re getting closer.

Yes.

Why are you so calm?

Because it’s not here for me.

That’s when I noticed the chair at the table. Pulled out slightly. Not mine. Not hers.

Who sat there?

You did.

I don’t remember that.

You won’t.

The footsteps stopped just outside the kitchen. I couldn’t see anything, but I knew exactly where it was standing.

Waiting in the dark where the light didn’t quite reach.

What does it want?

It wants you to stay long enough to be certain.

Certain of what?

That there’s nowhere else to go.

The clock ticked once.

1:39.

The air shifted. I felt something move behind me without touching me.

Mara stepped back, giving the space behind the chair more room.

You should sit.

Why?

Because once you do, it knows you’ve stopped trying.

I looked at the door. I knew it wouldn’t open. I knew because I could feel the certainty settling in, heavy and final.

My legs moved before I decided anything.

I sat.

The chair across from me slid out slightly.

Something took its place.

The clock didn’t move.

Neither did I.