The narrow streets of Prague at this time of year always smelled of wet cobblestones and damp leaves. Lena had already stopped counting the number of times she had walked the same route under the yellow lights on her way home from classes. But on this gloomy November evening, as the rain tapped on the visor of her hood, the townhouses seemed completely different - taller, as if they were looking down on her and watching her every move. Ever since she and her mother moved to the Old Town, Lena couldn't get used to the passage of time in her new place. The bells rang at six in the morning, and in the evenings the silence was so thick it was almost tangible. She didn't know anyone here except Maja from her class, and the latter kept talking about the same things: plans, universities, where she would move to as soon as she finished her baccalaureate. Lena, on the other hand, thought more and more that she would like to learn to look at things differently - so that everyday life ceased to be transparent. The other evening, when she looked out of the steamed-up bus window and saw the light in the gate of their townhouse flickering strangely, she felt a strange stab of anxiety. "It's breaking down again," she sighed in spirit and quickened her stride. Waiting for her at the door was the neighbour's cat from across the street. Grey, as if woven from mist. - Hello, Alfred - she whispered, stroking his head. The cat stared into the darkness of the corridor with such intensity that Lena, not quite understanding why, also looked deep into the entrance. As she crossed the threshold, the light flicked on even more strongly, then went out completely. She switched on her phone and pointed the torchlight at the stairs. Everything looked as usual - the dingy walls, the old wooden handrails that creaked under her fingers. Suddenly, Lena felt that something was wrong. Something that could not be named. A sound came from inside the tenement - it wasn't the usual creak of the old staircase, more like a quiet whisper, as if someone was saying her name. She wanted to step back, but Alfred jumped to her feet as if to stop her. - Lena... - the murmur repeated itself more clearly, echoing off the walls. The girl's hand trembled, but she did not turn off the light. With her heart, she felt that she could not leave. For a brief moment, she was sure she saw a shadow on the wall next to the door, where the board with the names of the residents usually hung - the silhouette of a tall boy in an old, long coat. Before she could blink, the figure was gone. All that was left was a rippling breath and a silence that was no longer so ordinary. Lena set foot on the first step and Alfred moved behind her. Somewhere above, on the mezzanine, the extinguished light bulb flicked again - this time in a regular rhythm, as if someone was giving it signs. Lena drew in a deep breath. She knew she had to go higher.