Block Number 209
My wife and I took a furnished flat in an old Singapore block — antique furniture, faded red-and-green walls, and one room the landlord forbade us to ever open. At night, behind that locked door, something dragged its nails along the wall. Then the stains bled through the paint, and one night I woke to a woman’s shadow standing over the bed, watching from the mirror. We left before it could keep us.





