In a last ditch grab at adulthood, twenty four year old Alexander Howell signs the lease on the only place he can afford: a cramped, gritty apartment with a history that makes his skin crawl. He expects leaky pipes, loneliness, maybe cockroaches. He doesn't expect a ghost. Roscoe Pierce died here in 1998, brutally, unjustly, and long before he was done living. Now he is stuck in the apartment with unfinished business, buried truths, and a hunger for connection. Together, Alexander and Roscoe have to untangle lies, navigate the feelings forming between them, and put down the thing stalking the apartment, proving that dead or alive, some people refuse to go down without a fight.

I used to move through things without really stopping. Days came and went, and I let them. It was easier that way. Nothing asked too much of me, and I didn't ask much back. If something slipped away, I told myself it was fine. Most things are. Somewhere along the way, though, I started noticing how quiet moments linger longer than they should. How certain thoughts don't disappear just because you ignore them. How even small things leave behind a shape when they're gone. I don't think I changed all at once. I'm still much the same. But, it was more like slowing down without meaning to. Letting my eyes rest on things for an extra second. Feeling something soften, just a little, before moving on. And I just wonder, when something small disappears from your days, do you feel it leave?