Hania lives on the fourth floor of a block of flats. Today she got up early to go to kindergarten with her dad. A bowl, a spoon and sugar were waiting on the table. The spoon tapped once and the sugar moved. White balls formed letters: "To the balcony, Hania". Hania blinked and nodded very seriously. The balcony smelled of basil and a wet windowsill. The pot was ordinary, but the soil trembled slightly. Hania watered the plant with a small dotted watering can. The water soaked in and the soil made a spiral. A key slid out from the centre like a slice of lemon. The key warmed her hand and purred softly: "mmm". "What are you opening?" whispered Hania to the key. In the flat, things were suddenly looking at the key. The lamp blinked and the carpet made a small hump. Books rose up and lined up like a house. A cracked tile squeaked by the hallway door. At the edge it had a small hole like a keyhole. Hania knelt down and put the key to the hole. The tile moved and someone knocked from inside.