what a story……

The Glass Apartment

Rain fell like shattered glass against the window of the twenty-third floor. Below, the city pulsed with restless lights people rushing home, screens glowing in every window, secrets moving beneath umbrellas. For Maya Turner, the world had always looked perfect from above. She had a job in a tech firm, a sleek apartment, and a smile that fooled everyone. But tonight, something was wrong. The lights in the apartment across from hers were on again  the one that should have been empty.

It had been three months since the young couple living there vanished. Police said they’d left town, no foul play. Maya knew that wasn’t true. She had seen them the night before they disappeared, fighting on the balcony. Then, silence. Since then, that apartment had stayed dark until last night.

Now, as she stared across the narrow gap between towers, she saw movement. A shadow crossing the room. Someone was there.

She grabbed her phone and zoomed in through the glass. The figure moved again  tall, wearing a hood, turning slowly as if sensing her eyes. Then the lights went off. Darkness swallowed everything.

Her heart thudded. It was just a trick of the light, she told herself. Cities were full of ghosts  memories, reflections. But deep down, she knew she had seen someone real.

The next morning, Maya tried to forget. She went to work, drowned in screens and deadlines. But when she returned home that night, an envelope was taped to her door. No name. Inside was a single photo a picture of her standing at her window, staring at the empty apartment.

Her breath caught. Someone was watching her.

Fear crawled under her skin. She called building security. They shrugged no cameras on that side of the hallway. “Probably a prank,” they said. But Maya couldn’t sleep. Every creak sounded like a footstep. Every vibration felt like a phone buzzing in her bones.

By the third night, she had stopped turning off the lights. She just sat awake, waiting. Then, around 2 a.m., she heard it faint music drifting from across the gap. A song she knew. The same one the missing couple used to play. Her chest tightened.

Driven by something between fear and obsession, she crossed the street the next morning. She found the door to the other tower, pretended to be visiting a friend, and took the elevator up. Apartment 2309. The door was half-open.

Inside, the air was thick with dust. Furniture still there. A coffee mug on the counter. Everything frozen in time. Her phone flashlight flickered across the walls — and then caught something that made her stop. Photos. Hundreds of them. Pinned and taped. All of her. Walking, laughing, cooking, sleeping.

Behind her, a whisper: “You shouldn’t be here.”

She turned and the figure stepped from the shadows, hood falling back. It was the missing man. Pale, trembling, eyes wide like he hadn’t seen daylight in months.

“They’re listening,” he said hoarsely. “They hear everything through the smart walls. You were next.”

Before she could answer, footsteps echoed in the hallway. Heavy, purposeful. He grabbed her wrist. “Don’t make a sound.”

The door burst open. Two men in black stepped inside, faces blank. She didn’t know who they were government? corporate? something else? But their voices were cold. “You both saw too much.”

That was the last thing she remembered before the lights went out.

When Maya woke up, she was back in her apartment, morning sun pouring in. Everything looked normal except the apartment across from hers was gone. Not dark. Not empty. Gone. Where glass once reflected light, there was only a blank concrete wall.

Her phone buzzed. A new message from an unknown number:
“Do not look again.”

And still, she turned toward the window.

Because some mysteries don’t end they just move closer.