On Halloween evening, Hania carried her own pumpkin lantern. It had a crooked smile and a big toothpick tooth. Paper bats and ghosts hung in the courtyard of the old tenement. Miki, the ground floor neighbour, waved a black vampire cloak. "Shall we go get some sweets?" he asked, tapping his plastic fangs against a bucket. Hania nodded and looked at the fourth staircase. It had stood empty since spring, and the light there was flickering. That afternoon, someone slipped a mysterious note under the door: "Give me the key". The letters were cursive, as if written in a great hurry. They collected a handful of sweets and one jelly brain from the neighbours. Then something rang in the letterbox of the fourth staircase. Hania looked through the slot and saw a coiled string. At the end hung a brass key with a pumpkin keyring. She pulled the string and the key fell out into her hand. Miki swallowed her saliva. "Why don't we give it to the administration?" "Not today," Hania said. "Things are a bit different today." She swung open the door to the empty cage, and the air was cool. The light in the lantern danced and cast a long shadow. Someone whispered her name, very quietly, like a feather. They walked slowly up the steps that remembered the old steps. There were tiny wet marks on the tiles, as if made by a cat. The footprints glittered in the light, then turned abruptly at the dryer door. Above the plaque someone had scratched out a new sign, resembling a crescent moon. Hania put the key to the lock and felt a slight tremor. Three even, hollow knocks sounded on the other side. Miki took half a step back and squeezed her sleeve. "Do you hear?" he asked. "Who's there?" Hania turned the key one tooth and the lock answered with a long, cold creak.