You speak to empty rooms
when no one’s home.
Old habit.
Testing the walls.
Seeing if they talk back.

They never do.
Until tonight.

You say,
“I’m tired,”
and the hallway answers—
soft,
from behind you—
“I know.”

You freeze.
Laugh it off.
Wind in the pipes.
Old house.
Old tricks.

You try again.
“I should sleep.”

The voice returns—
closer—
“You should.”

Same tone.
Same breath.
Same you.
But not.

You turn.
Nothing.
Just the dark
leaning in.

You whisper,
“Who’s there?”

And it answers—
immediate,
warm against your ear—
“Who do you think?”

You run.
Lights on.
Doors locked.
Heart loud.
Silence louder.

You sit.
Wait.
Don’t speak.

Hours pass.

Then—
soft—
from inside your chest—
the voice again.
Not echo.
Not outside.

“I’ve always been here.
You just finally listened.”

You open your mouth
to scream.

It speaks first.
“Shh.
We’re not done talking.”

Written By MCapture