THE SEA BETWEEN APARTMENTS

At 2:13 a.m. the lift in Alder House stopped between the sixth and seventh floors. Mara was returning from a night shift carrying two grocery bags and a letter she had not opened. The emergency light came on, revealing a little metal sign she had never seen before: IF YOU HEAR THE SEA, DO NOT CALL THE LANDLORD.

Water seeped through the doors. It was cold and salty, carrying a smell that made her think of holidays she had never taken. When she forced the lift open, the sixth-floor corridor had become a beach. Doors floated a few inches above the sand, each with a familiar brass number. A whale passed beyond the stairwell window, moving through deep water where the car park should have been.

Mara thought of her neighbor Elian, who had vanished from Flat 7B the previous winter. The police had called it a voluntary departure. She had never believed them.

Two routes led away from the lift. One followed footprints toward the concierge's office. The other descended into the flooded stairwell where a light blinked seven times, paused, and blinked again.