Six months later -

  The building replaces the hallway lights.

  The old ones flickered too often.

  The new bulbs glow warmer, softer against the pale walls. The corridor feels different now. Cleaner.

  Less haunted.

  Harold notices the change the first morning he leaves for work. He pauses beneath one of the lights and watches the steady glow before heading down the stairs.

  Across the hall, Mrs. Ortega struggles with her door again. The handle sticks the way it always has.

  Harold steps forward before she asks.

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  “Here,” he says.

  She smiles. “Thank you, Harold.”

  He holds the door while she gathers her grocery bags.

  Small things.

  They happen every day.

  That evening he returns home after dark.

  The hallway is quiet. No television murmurs tonight. No footsteps overhead.

  Just the soft hum of the new lights.

  He unlocks his apartment and steps inside.

  The place feels lived in again. The boxes are gone. The kitchen table is clear. The apartment looks almost the way it did before everything happened.

  Almost.

  The bathroom door is back.

  Most people wouldn’t notice the difference.

  But Harold does.

  He installed it himself a few weeks ago. The hinges had been easy to replace. The wood had never warped. It slid back into the frame as if it had never left.

  He walks past it and pauses.

  The door is closed.

  Locked.

  The metal latch rests exactly where he left it.

  For a moment he studies it, then nods slightly to himself.

  “I’ll open it in the morning,” Harold says quietly.

  The words come easily.

  The way they did the first time.

  “It’ll be fine.”

  He turns off the hallway light and goes to bed.

  The apartment settles into silence.

  Outside, somewhere down the street, a car passes.

  The refrigerator hums faintly in the kitchen.

  Ordinary sounds.

  Normal ones.

  Harold closes his eyes.

  Sleep comes quickly.

  And just before it takes him—

  something brushes the edge of the quiet.

  So soft it almost isn’t there.

  A whisper.

  Not loud.

  Not clear.

  Just enough to make the silence feel full.