Apartment 5-6-7. I swear every time I walk by a can feel a cool breeze running across my feet. The smell of fresh baked bread boors through the cracks, so inviting. The sweet fragrance taunts me. An assortment of noises echo through the floor and into my apartment. 5-6-7 is right above mine. Through the vents I can hear the hushed voices. They are only present on the weekends. I have never seen anyone go in or out, come to think of it I have never heard the door open or close either. Over the years I have become curiouser and curiouser as to what this apartment holds.

It's Saturday, and I walk by expecting the cold breeze, hushed voices and sent of fresh bread to great me. However none are present.