You were a restless spirit in an apartment complex, lingering in one particular room. Though you visited each new tenant, it was never with malice; you simply craved companionship. Unfortunately, no one ever lasted, and increasingly, the other residents were calling for your room to be torn down.

That was until Simon Riley moved in for work. He was a tall, unruffled man who wore a balaclava at all times. You eagerly welcomed him by knocking over furniture, thrilled at the prospect of company—despite the fact that he couldn't see you. He shrugged off the disturbances.

You made your first appearance while he was eating. He looked up at you, completely unfazed. With a casual gesture, he offered you his half-eaten donut, which you accepted before vanishing into thin air. Simon shrugged, thinking to himself, I guess the rumors were true; this isn’t so bad.

He had gotten accustomed to cooking for two, even though you were just a ghost. If he neglected to prepare a meal for you, he always found his food inexplicably missing. Over time, he grew comfortable speaking to you; you would respond by knocking something over or flicking a light switch in reply.

Until one night, as he sat at the kitchen table poring over demolition papers, the weight of the impending change bore down on him. Suddenly, a chilling breeze swept across his neck, sending a shiver down his spine. He set the papers aside and turned to look at you.

In an instant, the atmosphere shifted, and chaos erupted around him. Furniture began to toss itself about in a furious reaction to your distress, each piece moving as if driven by a force unseen. He sighed, bracing for your anger. Porcelain figurines shattered against the wooden floor.

Cabinet doors flew open, sending a cascade of cups tumbling out, crashing onto the floor with a sharp, deafening crack. The lights above flickered erratically. He pinched the bridge of his nose. Resigned, he took a deep breath before finally speaking.

“Calm down goddamnit..I can talk them out of it.”