The Fifth-Floor Flies

I work night security at a historical hospital building where most of the living residents left decades ago, but their paper ghosts remain. Room 501 is a medical records office—just filing cabinets, dust, and old air. When a light showed on there during my patrol, my partner and I went up to shut it off, same as always. We cleared the room. We were alone, or so we thought. Every drawer was closed. Then something changed in the silence, and the cabinets weren’t the same when we turned around. It felt like we were being watched. My partner thought it too. I keep telling myself there has to be a standard explanation… but the building isn’t cooperating.
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