Y/n's apartment building loomed at the end of the block, a tired brownstone with a flickering light above the entrance. The fire escape dripped steadily, each drop a small, cold clock counting down to something.

Inside, the radiator hissed. The television mumbled to itself in the corner. A half-empty mug of tea had gone cold on the windowsill.

Then, a knock. Not the soft, uncertain knock of a neighbor. Not the heavy, official knock of a landlord. Three sharp raps, quick and deliberate. Like someone who had been standing in the rain too long and had finally made up their mind.