Youmoves

“Youmoves,” he whispered.

He should have closed the door. Locked it. Called someone. But the word was already in his mouth, older than logic. youmoves

Now the crane sat on his kitchen counter. He lived a small, safe life: rent-controlled apartment, a cat that hated him, a job processing returns for an online mattress company. He hadn’t imagined anything extraordinary in years. “Youmoves,” he whispered

The hallway was gone. In its place stood the entrance to the carnival — rusted gates, a single flickering bulb, and a sign that read: safe life: rent-controlled apartment